Graceland
by invinciblebears
Summary: Hermione somehow ends up attending art classes in muggle London; Draco somehow ends up touring around England with his muggle band. They call it fate, Harry calls it being clever. DMHG. First of a trilogy. M for lemons, language and partying. \m/
1. Prologue I

AN: I originally started this as an OC/Draco fic, but the fact that it would weigh so much heavier on my heart if it was a DMHG fic forced me to change it. That being said, if you read my previous version, the second chapter will remain the same. I love this story. I'm so excited for it… but please review, I'll assume you hate it if you don't, and will curl up into a ball of depression.

Enjoy guys..

* * *

Hermione Granger sat idly in her small flat, watching as the dust particles float around the room in the sunlight. She wondered in passing exactly how many one inhales in a day, sure she'd read it in a muggle textbook somewhere. Instead of pursuing the thought further, though, she glanced around the room in search of a lighter—or, more conveniently, her wand. She found the latter buried under numerous papers and writing utensils in her end table, muttering a quick spell to ignite the fag in her hand. Returning to her wand to its previous location, she took long strides to her balcony. If you could call it that, it's basically only big enough for two people—and even so, the depth isn't big enough to step onto it and be completely outside. She ended up smoking half inside of her flat, and half out. The smell will undeniably drift into the small room, but she knows that no complaints will be filed from her landlord or any other tenants. It's not uncommon for her to look to her left and see their neighbor doing the exact same thing… the result is the entire building smelling like fags.

She likes to contribute that greatly as to why she began smoking in the first place. Honestly, though, she couldn't explain it. She's a smart witch; most would argue the most intelligent of her age, so you would think that she'd know better. Her parents had risen her stressing the dangers of lung cancer. At one point, she'd even held a blackened lung at a museum. She knew, above all else, her new habit was likely due to the people she hung out with.

You see, after the war, Hermione was flourishing. After returning for her final year at Hogwarts as Head Girl, she had become quite happy with a job at Flourish and Blotts. Sure, it was minimum wage work—and far under her qualifications, at that. Despite that, she enjoyed it. Ronald and she had become quite serious; moving in together merely two years after Voldemort was brought down. She found herself unsettled, though. Despite having everything, she felt that she was missing something important.

She had thought that the answer was obvious. I mean, who wouldn't miss their parents after not seeing them for years on end? Ron was supportive when she said that she was going to set off to Australia to find them and bring them back to her, which was exactly what she did. After a very long and tearful reunion (after she returned their memories to them, of course,) the three of them traveled to muggle London.

It was odd, Hermione couldn't help but to reflect –even then, as she sucked upon her cigarette, how still the house was. How can some things stay exactly the same while everything else is completely transformed, so much so that you cannot even recognize your life anymore? As she gazed upon the table that she used to eat breakfast at every morning, she couldn't help but to wonder what she used to want to do when she grew up. Surely it wasn't 'become a war hero'... or better yet, it certainly wasn't 'the girl of the Golden Trio.'

The realization struck her so quickly and fiercely that she literally had to catch her breath. She turned wordlessly from the dining room, and walked slowly toward the stairs. Pausing once she realized she was trekking through the house with her shoes on—no doubt staining the carpet—she cast them aside. As her toes dug into their soft carpet, she could almost hear her mother scold her as a child, "_Shoes, honey! I just cleaned that carpet, __**honestly.**_**" **With the feeling that seeing them couldn't be anything other than her imagination, she glanced toward her mother dusting the living room for confirmation. She couldn't quite place the last time that she'd been as happy for her dreams- usually nightmares- to be reality instead.

Slowly, she continued her trek. She passed by two doors before arriving at her own, her door painted a light shade of purple. She recalled her parents sharing looks with each other as they arrived home to the smell of paint, and said door glistening. Her dad simply shrugged, "_As long as you paint it if we move_." That time never arose, and she was secretly glad for that. Something felt so personal about this house, the one that she was raised in. It seemed that with every step that she took, another memory overcame her. They were ordinary things, things that she was eager to cast aside when she entered the wizarding world. Although she had returned home during summers, the feeling of nostalgia wasn't quite the same. .She had known with each passing summer that she would return again— until she didn't.

Her hand had gripped the doorknob tightly, before twisting it and letting the door open on its own. She took in the room that she had adored as a child, eyes brimmed with tears. She knew that she was the same person, but too many things had happened to ensure that completely. Sure, her purple walls had five whole bookcases pressed against them throughout her fairly small room, which was very similar to wizarding Hermione. However, she was astonished to think about the fact that the second she had left on the Hogwarts Express, she hadn't thought twice about her passion for artwork.

Her walls were absolutely covered in paintings, mostly of everyday things but others of her family, as well. Along with paintings were drawings, much less elaborate but just as good. The tears that had threatened to spill before finally made their way down her smooth cheeks. Hogwarts didn't have many classes that focused on muggle art—or any, to be more specific. She'd always been studious, so she put all of her energy into that, instead.

Now that she had matured and grown, she couldn't help but curse herself for how bloody stupid that was. She was really talented, and she'd never realized the extent before. Feeling a presence behind her, she glanced toward the doorway. Her mum was standing there, a look of pride on her gorgeous face. Hermione couldn't stop herself from taking in all of the older woman's features, another thing that she'd taken for granted before that day. The list seemed endless; Hermione couldn't help but note in her mind.

"I'd always wondered why you would give such a gift up," Her mum spoke to her, stepping so she was standing next to her daughter, and intertwining their hands. "Being a wizard is a very special gift," she admitted, "but at times I couldn't help but to wonder which was more special: powers that many others have or the ability to see into the human soul and put it onto paper. The latter seems rarer to me. Sometimes I'd come in here while you were away and snoop." Another confession... and a wonderful one, at that. The light tears that had danced across her cheeks had dried, but now they were forming again.

"I… I can't remember the last time I painted anything. I can't even remember doodling in class." Hermione admitted back to the older version of herself, devastated for forgetting so quickly her old dreams. She used to promise herself that she'd become a famous artist one day, and how quickly she abandoned those dreams for new ones. During first year, she sketched a bit. By second, she'd almost forgotten that she ever had the ability. When she arrived home for summer, she would do a piece or two out of boredom… but nothing that ever stuck. The passion she had carried was forgotten like an old toy, exchanged for a new and improved one.

"Well, you never were one to get distracted when you could be learning valuable information." Her mum chuckled lightly, nudging her daughters shoulder with her free hand, "Some things never change, ay?"

"I suppose not." The younger granger found herself mutter back, eyes darting across her old bedroom walls. Something strange settled in her stomach, and she couldn't quite place the feeling. Guilt? Definitely not... Regret seemed more likely. She couldn't help but to wonder what her life would be like at that moment if she'd never gotten on that train to Hogwarts. Surely she'd be a different person, but the question lingering in her mind was if she'd like the muggle version of herself better. It's something that one would assume that she's thought about in the past, but oddly it never passed her mind before that moment.

"Are you hungry? I was just about to start lunch." She drowned out her mother's words for a moment, as she considered both lives. If she'd lived her whole life in the muggle world, it's undeniable that she wouldn't have quite the maturity level that she was graced with as a wizard. On the other hand, she'd always been mature …and sometimes the extent of her maturity from the war made her feel more like an old hag than a knowledgeable young woman. She would have never met Harry or Ron. Harry might very well be dead without her. She sighed, knowing in her soul that she had made the right choice when she was eleven.

'_But do I have to stick with said choice throughout my entire life?' _her thoughts had rang out, loudly, echoing in the confines of her mind. "Yes, I'm starved." Lunch with her parents came and went, them telling her all about their travels in Australia, and her informing them of the results of the war, as well as her education.

"'Mione," Her father had spoken at one point, reaching across the table to hold her hand. She eagerly accepted it, staring into her father's dark chocolate eyes. "Are you sure you're alright?"

She knew her surprise was entirely visible at that point as she replied, "Yes, quite. Why do you ask?"

Withdrawing her hand, he shrugged slightly. Taking time out to take a bite of his grilled cheese sandwich, her surprise turned to a strange hollowness as he elaborated, "You just don't seem to have the same zest for life that I used to see in your eyes during the summers after Hogwarts." The regret she had previously felt in the pits of her stomach was replaced with something else, something she couldn't place. Uneasiness? No, not quite.

After returning to her flat with Ron that night, she laid awake, trying to figure out exactly what it was. The thought plagued her throughout dinner with her significant other, and hadn't left her mind once since that lunch. She found herself gazing at the boy… no—the man asleep next to her. Did she love him? Yes. Unequivocally yes. Was she still in love with him? She wasn't as sure. Never having had a real relationship, she often found herself wondering, even before seeing her parents once again, if her feeling were supposed to lessen over time.

Naturally you get used to seeing someone every day, so she'd always assumed that the lessening of the butterflies-in-your-stomach feeling was natural. Thinking back to her childhood, though, she could recall her parents gazing at each other like school children. They'd done it even the day that she was reunited with them. That was when the unease with Ron, as well as her life, really started.

From that day on she began to wonder what kept the two together. Their conversations never had the flow that they once did when they went to school together, and often after they sat in silence around each other. Not altogether unpleasant silence, but silence all the same. She was struck at the repetitive nature of their conversations when they did talk. 'How was work?' 'At the Burrow…' and 'Harry and Ginny…' were often the starts.

She found herself wondering the last time they'd laughed together. She found herself also wondering when all the little things that Ron did started to bother her, because they did. When he wouldn't get up for the remote, but simply levitated it, she couldn't help but to roll her eyes. Surely one can't be that lazy, she would think. She missed simply taking strolls for the sake of walking, something that Ron used to comply with for the sake of her happiness but had given up somewhere along the way. The thought crossed her mind that maybe she had given up on them after realizing that she'd given up on her true self, but even if that was the case the result was the same: unhappiness.

Mostly, she found herself missing her artwork. She had tried to do it after work, or whenever she had time, but she often lacked inspiration. She would draw Harry and be satisfied with her portrayal of her best friend, but draw Ron and be taken aback at the lack of soul. It would be simply a picture, not capturing who he was but what he looked like.

Sometime around there, she decided what she wanted to do. One night before bed, after their ordinary conversation and boring TV dinners, she brought herself to say something. "Ronald," She spoke, her voice sounding stiff and uneasy. His ears immediately perked, glancing over. He knew just as well as she that being called by his full name meant that something was off. "I… I'm not sure I know who I am anymore. Or, or maybe I just remembered who I am and I realized that you and the real me don't really know each other."

Always the supportive boyfriend, he ran a hand through her hair and she felt him scoot closer. "Then show me who you really are and we can get to know each other. Honestly, I'm not even quite sure what you're talking about… but I'm willing to try. I'll do anything for you, Hermione."

She meant the statement to come out strong and empowered, but somehow it was only a whisper when she replied, "I'm not sure I want you to know who I really am. I'm not sure you'd fit in the life I wish to lead, with muggles, at a muggle school. And besides that," she glanced away, unable to face his intense gaze, "I'm not sure I believe in us anymore."

She could practically hear his heart as it broke to her words. Their discussion progressed into a shouting match, and it had been that night that she packed her things and apparated into the house she grew up in. Less than two weeks later, she had her GED (seeing as most muggle colleges would see her Hogwarts diploma and laugh their arses off) and was accepted into a muggle college with art as her focus.

It was a month after that when she got the flat that she was smoking in now. Her parents had offered to help her get a nicer place, because frankly, it was shit. She wanted to be on her own though, for the first time in what feels like her entire life. She got a job at a coffee shop, of course, but only worked there enough to keep up her rent, utilities and food. Her wonderful parents were funding her school and she wasn't sure she'd ever felt so alive.

She met her best friend, Rachel, at school. A free spirit would be the best way to describe the girl with cotton candy pink hair and two sleeves of tattoos gracing on her arms. She was wild and carefree, and she balanced Hermione in the perfect way that Harry and Ron had in school. She had made a variety of other acquaintances between work and school, but none of which seemed to understand her in the harmonious way that Rachel did.

Hermione stubbed out the fag and threw it into the jar she kept on the balcony, glancing at the sky as drops slowly began to fall. She retreated into her flat, leaving the sliding glass door open so she could bask in the simple sound of the rain puttering on the roof above and the ground below. Her flat was really the bare minimum, but she found herself in love with it for that reason.

A small kitchen was in the corner with no wall separating it from the rest of her place. The only room that was separate was her bathroom, and even that simply had a doorway without a door. She'd gotten a good discount on the place simply because it was missing a door, such a simple fix. She never bothered to fix it though, content with hanging a thin sheet as a replacement.

Her walls were splattered with various colors, and hung on said walls was the various pieces of artwork that she'd made since the move—with the exception of a few that she'd taken with her from her childhood room.

She kept in touch with her wizarding friends, of course; the only exception being Ronald, who was still feeling sore over the fact that she chose muggles over him. Harry and Ginny grimaced when they came to visit, complimenting her decorations but offering to help her get a better place. She simply giggled and shook her head, happier than she could remember ever being and assuring them that it was exactly what she wanted. They didn't pretend to understand completely, but they were supportive and that's all she could ask of them.

She surprised herself at the person that she was when given the chance to be anything she wanted. She even ventured into getting a couple tattoos, one of a paint brush on her forearm and one of the deathly hollows on her neck. She could see herself getting more, but decided that plunging straight into them would eventually lead to regret. Instead, she had dozens of ideas that floated around in her head until she was absolutely sure that they were worth it.

All in all, Hermione was a happy, independent woman, who didn't need a plethora of friends, magic or even a boy to be happy. Or so she told herself.


	2. Prologue II

Authors Note: I already had this written, so I thought I'd knock out both prologues in one day. Also, please forgive me calling Hermione a wizard several times in the last chapter, instead of a witch. Enjoy, please please please review.

* * *

Three years ago to this day, Draco Malfoy had sat in his living room. The blondes' hair was in disarray, tears streaked his face and an empty bottle of Firewhiskey sat beside him. "Empty Firewhiskey in an empty house," he muttered to himself, the echoes of his broken voice almost convincing him that he wasn't as terribly alone as he knew he was, "how bloody fitting."

People cleared out after the funeral hours ago, although the 20 year old hadn't moved from the couch all day as it is. Draco had never been as close to his parents as most kids, even more so after the war ended. His father had never played Quidditch with him (he had friends for that, after all) and his mother never attempted to teach him to cook (he was to have house elves for that, as well as a wife!) but even without those ordinary experiences, he couldn't deny the amount he had looked up to them. '_Blindly_.' His brain thought before he even realized it, thinking once again to his sixth year at Hogwarts and the war.

He could see Cosmo, their house elf, as he peaked at him from behind the doorframe. He had already approached the drunken man several times, trying to aid him in any way possible. The small elf was met, each time, with an outburst or another. He thought it best to leave his master alone, but that didn't stop him from worrying. Master Draco had always been the kindest of the three, often even thanking him. Cosmo was fond of the older man, and although he would never admit it, Draco had an affinity for little guy as well.

Post-war for the Malfoys was a rough card to be dealt. While they were all pardoned, the wizarding world wasn't quite as forgiving. Muggleborns hated them, obviously, and the purebloods saw them as traitors. Narcissa took it the worst, seeing as none of her old friends would communicate to her in the slightest. A severe depression fell upon her, and it became a rare occurrence to ever see her get out of bed. That is, until Lucius was diagnosed with cancer. She had attempted to cheer up, to support her husband as any doting wife should.

Unfortunately for all of them, the cancer had spread too far by the time they detected it. He passed away in two and a half short years. Not even seven months later, the youngest Malfoy came home (he had decided to stay with the family through their troubled times, instead of moving out) and found his mother in the pool of her own blood.

He would forever wonder what the straw to break the camel's back was. While Lucius' death was obviously a big contributor, he suspected that it was the Daily Prophet articles celebrating the death of one of the 'all time worst Death Eaters in history.' If Draco had a say in that article, he would've argued that Wormtail was far dodgier than his father. No matter the reason, Draco found that his eyes were forever stained with the color of his mother's blood. Figuratively, of course.

The year to follow was an even worse one for Draco. Everywhere he went he could feel the judging eyes, vicious rumors of how he had actually killed his own mother circling. "Once a Death Eater, always a Death Eater." He had once heard some pretentious witch mutter as he strode through the entrance hall of Gringotts. The comment was only one of many; the animosity held for him, as well as his depression, were the driving factors that led to the young wizard giving up his job at the ministry to be a full time alcoholic. He found that being holed up in the manor was a far greater destiny than anything the ministry could ever have for him.

If you asked Draco later how he found music (which will eventually happen in an interview, surprise surprise) he would argue that music found him. When he was young, his mother would play the piano until he fell asleep for his nap with his head in her lap. Even after this tradition had stopped, he found it hard to think of a time when his parents didn't force him to listen to classical music during dinner or tea time. He liked to attribute these things into his passion for it, even if it's a different genre than what he will later discover to be his fate. In his third year at Hogwarts, Blaise introduced him to rock and roll properly, for the first time.

He couldn't explain why he loved it so much, even then. He guessed that it had something to do with getting aggression out, when he wanted to scream and yell like the child he was in his heart the music did it for him. This was also how he found out his enjoyment for singing it, as well.

One day, he had awoken from his slumber and found that he was bored of being depressed. As negative as he's always tended to be as a person, he would find happiness in other ways. During Hogwarts, it was tormenting people for his own amusement. When he worked at the ministry, he enjoyed going out after work for a good shag. Before he realized what he was doing, he was out the door and apparated to the Leaky Cauldron to get drunk somewhere other than his house.

Little by little, he saved himself from the black hole that consumed his life. The death of his parents and the blood of his mother were forever on his mind, but it seemed less of a priority. He had done his time, he'd mourned longer than most people would find acceptable. After that long year and a half, the sharp stabbing pain in his chest toned down to a dull ache.

He found himself rather lost after he'd finally cried all the tears that he had. For as long as he could remember, he'd based his actions on what his father expected of him. He was cunning from a young age; he'd been sorted into Slytherin; they had been Death Eaters together, and after that he had gotten a job at the ministry. Although Draco hadn't been seeing anyone when his father was still alive, he had several pureblood witches lined up that would gladly carry on the lineage. The thought often struck Draco that he wasn't living his full life, but his fathers. Going against his parents, however, was something that he had never dared to do. He never even particularly longed to, something that when he's older he'll often wonder why he had a perfectly good brain that he was content to not use.

It was during his time of confusion that he had met Astoria Greengrass. She was really quite breathtaking, with blonde hair and blue eyes and the stature of a supermodel. She was smart as a whip, and seemed to be understanding of Draco and his lack of direction. And while Astoria was a wonderful girl, he found that he'd sometimes wake up in a sweat after one of their nights together and examine her. He seemed perpetually unable to shake the feeling that by being with her, he's regressing to his old life; to who his parents wanted him to be, who he had been so blindly willing to be.

He was never able to decide if that was a good thing or not. On one hand, he had wanted to be that person his whole life. He was raised to believe that you live your life a certain way, and he'd seen firsthand from his parents that it wasn't a bad life to lead. Yes, they'd met brutal ends, but they'd been hopelessly in love and, for the most part, happy. Moreover, marrying Astoria and getting his job back at the ministry would be the safest route. He would no longer be lost, and he'd be with a girl that made him feel perfectly content.

On the other hand, however, he thought about the fact that he always took the safest route. He'd done what was expected of him his entire life and the rock 'n roll in his soul was begging him to do something else. Settling down with Astoria would also mean banquets, accompanied by whispers and glares. He found that time didn't heal all wounds, as even after he put himself on house arrest; witches and wizards alike would continue their constant prejudice quite blatantly.

Astoria was the one who had given him his direction, unbeknownst to her. He was getting ready to get up and go look for some new records to listen to, and had taken to singing a song that he just couldn't get out of his head. She came up from behind him, wrapping her thin arms around his waist and hooked her chin on his shoulder. "You're actually quite a brilliant singer, love." She informed the blonde, pecking him on the cheek before going back to getting ready for work.

"Bloody hell," Draco had spoken to himself, pausing. It seemed to click all at once. The only thing he had ever been passionate about was music; he couldn't imagine doing anything else whilst still being blissfully happy. He thought that perhaps he would fall in love with Astoria, if he fell in love with what he was doing for a living as well. He decided to wait to tell her that he had made his decision, and instead started the hunt for a band in search of a lead singer.

The wizarding world was quickly proven to be a bust. No one wanted Draco Malfoy as their lead singer, while his past would give them a ridiculous amount of bad-arse points, it was too tricky. Who would want to see the ex-Death Eater in concert? No one, argued every band he talked to. Draco wasn't happy when he realized that if he wanted his dream to come true, he'd have to make the transition to muggle England.

He considered the best way to do it. He had enough money to swim in when he was in the wizarding world, but if he truly made the transition he would be poor for the first time in his entire life. The lifestyle didn't seem too luxurious. He brought up the entire thought process to Astoria. She was reluctant to accept the fact that he wanted to leave their world, but chose to keep most of her thoughts to herself. "Why don't you live here, and apparate whenever you need to go?" She questioned, drawing random patterns on the back of her boyfriend's hand rather lazily.

He couldn't deny that the thought had occurred to him, but whenever he thought about it, it seemed to have too many flaws. His muggle band mates, and eventually friends, would begin to wonder why he never lets anyone come over. People in the business would surely need his address to send him letters, but muggle postmen don't travel anywhere near the manor. In addition to that, the manor held its own haunting memories that still plagued Dracos mind.

He knew that Astoria, though she held her tongue, longed to live the life of a traditional pureblood witch. She wanted nothing more than to be a stay home mom and raise her own little Malfoy babies. He suspected that if she had been dating anyone else, she would have bolted when the words "muggle" and "rock star" were used in the same sentence. He could see the love for him in her eyes, however, and knew that she would be willing to make him happy if that's what he needed. And so, she did.

Draco sold all of the furniture in the manor to muggles, earning himself quite a saving in pounds that got him a decent apartment and food in the refrigerator. His inheritance, in the end, got him fairly wealthy in the both worlds. After releasing Cosmo, he abandoned his childhood home indefinitely. He soon not only tolerated the muggle world, but found himself loving it. If someone did a double take, it was only to check him out. He could wear short sleeves for the first time since he was sixteen, and people even often complemented him on his 'awesome looking tattoo.' The very thing that caused him so much torment in the wizarding world was the very same thing that made him look 'cool' in the muggle world.

Draco shook his head at the ridiculous thought.

Finding the band, he found, had been bafflingly easy as well. He often wondered how his muggle life could fall together so effortlessly, while his wizarding one seemed to fall apart with the same amount of effortlessness. He'd happened upon them at a concert one night; they were giving out flyers for one of their own shows. When he first heard them, they had a singer. They'd even gotten signed to a record company, and did a small tour around England.

When he heard that the singer had stepped down (he later found out that he had a nasty heroine problem,) he was the first to step up. Just like that, he was the lead singer of a signed band that was already planning their second tour around England. This tour was bigger than the last, and it seemed that with Draco as their charismatic front man, they were gaining more fans with each second that passed. Each show in this tour selling out weeks before the date, and the band was hitting it off without a single qualm. The guys in the band felt like a family by the first week of tour in Earl, their white van that had a habit of dying in the middle of nowhere.

More than once the other guys were grateful for their lead singer, who seemed to have the skill to fix any problem with the van without a tool in sight. "Draco, go work your magic on Earl." Travis, the drummer, had spoken on one random breakdown. No one quite understood the mischievous smile on their new friends face.

The band was called Graceland, ("After the Paul Simon record," explained the bass player who went by Kennedy) and no one really expected the fame that they were met with. Before he'd even realized it, Draco found himself with a half sleeve of tattoos, in addition to the few others scattered about his body. The tour was due to end in London, and they were all set to rest for three months before they'd be ushered off to the United States, where apparently the news of their fame is slowly spreading as well.

Draco couldn't remember the last time that he had been so undeniably happy. Astoria couldn't remember the last time that she'd been so undeniably frustrated. The more time that Draco spent with his muggle friends, the less time he had for her. She felt terribly neglected, and it didn't appear to bother him at all. Despite that, she stayed with him, her love stronger than her will. Draco decided that he could definitely spend the rest of his life on stage; as long as it was followed with partying with the people he could now call his best friends. '_No,_' he paused at the thought, _'I wouldn't need the partying, but it sure does help._'

The band consisted of three other fellows. There was John, who was an American that moved to England when he was only fifteen after running away from home. John had undeniably good looks, with brown sandy hair, a lanky stature and a naturally crooked smile. Girls creamed their pants when he stepped on stage with his guitar in hand. John had a good amount of tattoos, but not anything near a sleeve; they were scattered about his body fairly evenly. The guitarist was hard to locate without a beer in hand or a bad word coming out of his mouth, but despite these unattractive habits, he was a great guy who cared about people who he let close to him. Apparently, it had been John who decided on the band name.

Kennedy was a raven haired beauty who had a smile on his face… pretty much all day. On a somewhat related note, he was also the bands Official Stoner. Kenny, as they call him, always seemed to choose his words wisely. He had the habit of looking into peoples souls, and giving them advice that was actually pretty brilliant…for a stoner. He was the one band member who was free of tattoos completely, although his nose was pierced.

Finally, there was Travis. Travis had shoulder length dark brown hair, wild enough to closely resemble a lion's mane. Of all the guys in the band, Draco was least close with Trav. He was load and brash, although an all-around good guy. Travis had two full sleeves, and a fuck-all attitude. The longer you spend with him, the more he grows on you. Draco found himself warming up to the kid after the second week of tour, on a random night of driving into the morning when they were the only two awake. They talked about their lives, his parents' death, and Travis' own overbearing parents (who he called the next morning just to say that he loved them, Draco had overheard with a genuine smile on his face.) Travis, much like John, was from America, although he didn't run away when he moved. The two had been friends in middle school.

They were currently on their way to the London show, much to the pleasure of everyone. Draco was unsure how much longer he could spend in Earl, especially since last week an unidentified smell erupted and it's only gotten worse by the day. Currently, they were placing bets as to what it was. "Remember in Birmingham when John forgot to close the door after we parked in front of the cinema to sleep?" Draco spoke from the driving wheel. He kept the fact that he had no license to himself, seeing as he could always conjure one up if need be. After murmurs of agreement, he continued: "A skunk must have crawled in to kill us. I see no other options."

"No way man, I think that he probably pissed in here when he was too fucking gone to remember it." Travis pitched in, not bothering to glance up from the game that he was playing on his phone.

"FUCK THAT," John screeched from next to the other boy, thoroughly offended at the two guys that he usually called his friends, "Draco probably peed! He's the one that almost peed on a fan!" John smirked, recalling his favorite tour memory thus far. After the show in a bar and a lot of partying, Draco had gone out to pass out in Earl. Feeling the need to relieve himself, he planned on going against the bar wall. Where he failed, before then, to notice a young girl who was probably seventeen or so waiting for his autograph.

"Bugger off, you bloody twat." Draco said carelessly, not bothering to turn from the wheel.

"Bugger off, you twat." John and Trav shadowed his words, mocking both the accent as well as the slang.

"Actually," Kenny spoke up from the passenger seat, his legs resting leisurely on the glove department and his arm draped out the window, "I'm pretty sure I forgot my leftover Thai food under the back seat." His band members stared blankly at their friend with looks of exasperation and amusement on their faces.

"…I can't believe you didn't eat it…" muttered John, amazed, saying the thought on everyone's mind.

They burst out into laugher and Draco allowed himself to think once more that, yeah, he was basically the luckiest wizard in all of England.


	3. I

This is by far the longest chapter that I've written for any story, ever. I'm in love with it. That being said, **please please please review.**

* * *

A light chime rang throughout the bustling coffee shop and Hermione Granger ducked in with a newspaper propped above her head. Outside the rain was pouring down, and it was obvious that the twenty-two year olds efforts to escape it had been fruitless. Her normally somewhat tame curls were now unruly and began to frizz as a result of the spontaneous rain drops. Her gaze immediately turned to the pink haired beauty lounging on the sofa in the corner, a warm drink cradled between her hands. Without asking, Hermione knew that said drink was a Chai tea, as it was currently both the pink pixies as well as the girl who currently resembled a wet-dogs favorite drink.

She made her way across the small café, taking a seat across from her best friend and smiling a bright smile as she noticed that the other girl had taken the initiative to get her the same drink. "'Ello, lovely." Rachel greeted with a small grin on her petite face. Hermione took the time to examine her best friend, noting not for the first time the others woman's beauty.

She had a floral design for her tattoo sleeve, and a Monroe piercing gracing her face. While when Hermione first met her, a year ago, she had hair that reached her arse; she currently had her hair cut into a style that reminded Hermione of a pixie. The style suited her, and she was amazed at the fact that the other girl was able to look so out-there and still be one of the most beautiful ladies that the book worm had ever seen. She wore her confidence like the best outfit one could ever wear. Hermione had witnessed even the most straight-edge businessmen give the girl a second glance… there was simply something intoxicating about her appearance.

Better than her appearance was her personality, Hermione concluded. When she first met the girl in her art history class, she had found her slightly obnoxious. When she spoke to her friends in the class, her voice had carried just a degree or two too loud. There were several times when the witch would glance at the other woman with a put off glance, silently begging her to shut up so she could take notes. Thinking back, she wasn't sure how they became such good friends. Perhaps it's because they often ended up into a group together, simply for a lack of other amiable options.

Once the two became friends, Hermione struggled to remember why her carrying voice had put her off so much. Without really realizing it, she had become the one who was talking a degree too loud to the girl who was talking two degrees too loud. Rachel, she quickly realized, was one of the best people she'd ever met. It was no wonder that it was practically impossible to walk across campus without the pixie being stopped at least five times by friends, the young woman was incredibly likeable. She'd carry a conversation with anyone, really, and be genuinely invested in it—as well as their problems. In addition to that, she'd always remember to ask them about them later, having thought out the advice that she'd like to give them. She was incredibly caring, so much so that Hermione sometimes felt careless in comparison.

She figured that it was a good thing, though. Unbeknownst to Rachel, she was often the inspiration for Hermione to owl to her wizard friends. It was hard to remember to keep in touch, and though they often wrote her, it wasn't uncommon for her to be too caught up in her art to bother to reply. Rachel seemed to keep her feet on the ground, and her head from the clouds. Without her, Hermione is sure that she'd forget to eat for days between studying for class and immersing herself in her art.

Rachel carried her wit on her sleeve and her heart tucked away in her back pocket for a rainy day. She was constantly talking to someone or another, but she'd really only had a single serious relationship in her life. Hermione was the opposite, avoiding the opposite sex like a plague as she slowly got over her ex. She didn't have to explain it to Rachel for her to know that the witch wore her heart on her sleeve, and both knew how dangerous that could be. The pink haired beauty took to looking out for her friend, glaring at any boy who hit on her that seemed unworthy and encouraging the bookworm to pursue the amiable men. She never did, but then again, Rachel never actually expected her to. Their friendship sort of fell into place, and when Rachel pointed that out later, neither could pinpoint the exact moment that it had happened.

"I love you," Hermione simply replied, shrugging off her jumper and cradling the mug in her delicate hands. She had to work in twenty minutes, and was more than grateful for the warmth that came along with the cup of tea. She took a moment to admire her work place, basking in how cozy it was. The walls were lined with photographs; one of her own paintings was even perched on the wall behind the register. It was a painting of the very room, and she felt that it reflected the relaxing atmosphere that the café provided adequately. It wasn't uncommon for her and Rachel to hang out there on off days, doing nothing in particular and being perfectly content. "What're you doing today?" She knew for a fact that the other girl wasn't working, as that's the first thing she checks when a new schedule comes out.

She'd gotten her best friend a job with her about six months ago, and one would assume that the two would get sick of each other with the amount of time that they spent together, but that never seemed to be the case. On the contrary, the more time they spent together, the closer they got.

"That's what I wanted to talk about. You only work until seven, right?" Her friend questioned lightly, already knowing the answer. Hermione was amazed, once again, at the other girls' impeccable memory. Already knowing the answer, she continued, "Because I was going to go to the Graceland show with Jake, remember? I bought the tickets months ago before it sold out but… obviously I'm not going with _him_ anymore. I'd forgotten about it completely, but d'you want to go with me?"

Hermione snorted, thinking about her friends' incident with Jake. They had been lightly dating for a few months, nothing serious, until they'd finally had sex. The boy proclaimed his love for Rachel, and she broke it off on the same day.

Graceland was her best friend's favorite band, and she'd turned Hermione onto the band completely. She owned their only album, entitled Simon, and frequently played it while she worked on her paintings. The two went to the bands last tour and they both agreed that their stage presence was wonderful, although the lead singer had looked extremely strung out. "I probably shouldn't, I have an essay about Monet due…." She groaned as the other girl put on the biggest pout she'd ever seen, "… but I suppose I can make an exception just this once."

"Eee!" Rachel squealed happily, leaning over the small table that separates them to hug the rain-soaked girl. "You won't regret it, I heard they have a new lead singer and most of the fans say they like him better than Roger. I watched a couple videos on the interweb, he's really quite talented," She ranted with the world's biggest smile upon her tiny face, "and he's _very _easy on the eyes, if I do say so myself."

Hermione couldn't stop herself from rolling her eyes at that, "Oh_ joy_. "

Rachel, in turn, made a 'tssking' noise and took a small sip of her tea. "Just because you don't fancy dating doesn't mean you should pretend you don't like the male sex in general. People might get the wrong idea about our relationship," she teased, keeping her cup close to her mouth and taking another gulp. "Not that our babies wouldn't be bloody beautiful."

She tried to picture said babies and could only laugh at the image that appeared in her mind. They were both decent looking, sure, Rachel more so than herself—but she couldn't imagine them combined. It'd be a weird looking child that was for sure. "Why fight the fact that I'm in love with you? Try as I might, I simply cannot deny the fact that I lust after your hot body and charming wit any longer." She replied easily, a playful smirk on her face.

"Aha, your aversion to the male population now makes sense. I'm afraid I can't return the sentiments, though, my friend. I enjoy a good knob far too much to go lesbo. Though, rest assured lovely, that if I were to switch playing fields, it'd definitely be for you." The pink haired pixie replied with a wink.

The two stared at the other for a moment or two, before letting out a few chuckles. Hermione couldn't help but to notice that the shop was slowly becoming busier, the lunch rush about to make the small shop completely slammed. She was glad that she still had a solid ten minutes before she had to clock on. "Perhaps a fag before I'm off to slave away for seven hours?" She found herself proposing, pushing a piece of hair behind her ear and finishing off her tea quite easily.

"I knew we were friends for a reason." Rachel concluding, finishing her coffee and standing, as well. Wordlessly, Hermione grabbed both of the cups and went behind the counter of the café to set said cups into their overflowing sink. In about nine minutes, that pile would be hers to dominate. She preferred to do the dishes and busing as opposed to being on register, so she couldn't complain too much. "Aw, hell. It's still raining." Her friend observed with a large frown on her pretty face.

Hermione nodded, pulling on her jumper and stepping into the rain anyways. It had calmed from a downpour to a light drizzle, one that the overhead of the shop could easily keep from them. It was breezy and cold, but she couldn't help but to love the weather of London. She's always been one to enjoy the foggy, rainy days far more than sunny ones. For some reason, her artwork turned out better when the patter of rain played in the background as a soundtrack to her painting. She could feel her friends gaze burning into the side of her head as she lit herself a cigarette and passed the other her lighter. "Off with it, crazy."

It was several seconds before Rachel replied. She knew this because she counted in her head. _One Mississippi, two Mississippi, three_—"Do you still miss Ron?" Her voice was soft spoken, for once, and held emotion on behalf of Hermione. She was always empathetic, and seemed to know how to act around her friend at all times. "I wouldn't ask, really, but. You never show interest in anyone. I used to tell myself it was because you were getting over him, but I met you over a year ago now. It's been what, a year and a half?" She asked in the same soft voice, as if the other girl was a porcelain doll who might break at any moment.

A smile graced the face of Hermione as she took a puff of her cigarette, exhaling slowly. Sometimes her friend was too delicate with her. "I'm quite alright, I assure you. Better than alright," she spoke as a reply, pocketing her lighter as the other girl passed it back to her, "it's been ages since I've thought of him, to be honest. I used to miss him as a sort of a… phantom limb effect. Now I'm simply content with my life. Anyways, I've yet to meet anyone who has caught my eye. Most men are simply boring, posing to be interesting. Once you talk to them for more than ten minutes, they run out of things to say and compliment you for fear of silence," she paused, eyes transfixed on the cobblestone beneath their feet, "It's quite pathetic, actually."

"And you wonder why I never settle down," Rachel replied with a smile that almost matched her best friends. "There are far too many commonplace people in this world."

Hermione let out a small hum of agreement, letting silence fall between the two. They were similar in the aspect that they both love the sound of the rain. Aside from that, they were fairly able to communicate through silence. Soul sisters through and through, they'd often told each other. With that in mind, Hermione muttered a small reminder, "We still need our matching tattoos."

"Name the day and it'll happen." Rachel replied, taking a long drag from her cancer stick. Jumping slightly, Hermione glanced back toward the café, where her manager tapped on the window and then pointed to his watch. It was one of the more lenient managers, so she took her time as she stubbed out the fag and exhaled one last time. "Have fun at work, boo." The pink haired vixen encouraged, pulling her best friend into a hug that was returned equally.

"Of course, when isn't it the time of my life?" She shot back sarcastically, "See you tonight. Do you want to meet there or will you fetch me from my house?"

"We should meet there, your flat is in the opposite direction and you always seem to maneuver around the city traffic quicker than I, anyways." Hermione hummed in agreement, sending her best friend a small wave before entering into the small building once more. She found herself scowling as she realized that she still had a solid five minutes before her shift started. She could've finished her fag.

"Wanker." She muttered under her breath, deciding to take her merry time before clocking in to get back at her boss, Roy. She worked her way around the people, as there were far too many patrons for such a small shop, and eventually found herself in the restroom. After muttering a quick drying spell and throwing her wand into her purse, she set off to start what would be an undeniably long shift.

…

Draco Malfoy wasn't sure there was a time that he'd been so glad to see London. As Earl drove the four men—or more accurately, as the four men drove Earl—into London, it seemed there was a collective peace in the van. It had been a crazy tour, far more interesting and exciting that Draco had ever thought to imagine. He always knew he wanted to play music in a band, but hadn't ever considered the bond that would be formed with said band.

Perhaps it was silly of him, really. How could you be anything but close to people who you spent months on end in a cramped space with? The idea seemed impossible, as the group would either hit it off and have a bond that wasn't breakable or hate each other's guts. He was glad it wasn't the latter, that's for sure.

The end of his first tour with the band was far more bittersweet than he'd ever admit to his friends. They'd done this once already, thus it was different for them. They had the knowledge that the tour would happen once again, while Draco had the constant fear in the back of his mind that another tour couldn't be as fun as the one they'd just experienced together. He thought that perhaps, while the others will be just as grand, nothing could compare to your first one. When he voiced this as they drove towards Kenny's flat, said boy shook his head. "It was a trip, man," he had spoken, his eyes trained onto his blonde friend. The wind of the open window tossed his hair as he looked to Draco in the backseat. "But there will be a better tour for all of us. I know how much you love to be on stage, but imagine when you're on stage singing your own lyrics. It'll taste far sweeter than singing our old album to our old fans."

John, the driver, hummed in agreement. "I've read your lyrics, man. The next album will be dope." Draco had confided into writing lyrics sometime along the way. He'd never really credited himself as a poet, but sometimes the four of them would have brainstorming sessions on the long drives. He felt confident that there would be several hits on their upcoming album.

As if reading Draco's mind, Trav spoke up as well: "I'm just pumped to get back into the studio." No one had to reply to know that the others agreed. It was just as well, because they pulled up to the apartment that Kennedy lived in with his girlfriend. As he hopped out, he nodded to the other three.

"See you lot tonight." Draco was glad, not for the first time, for Kennedy being in the band. He was certain that without another Englishman among them he would've come back from the tour with an American accent. He couldn't help but to smirk at the thought of Tori's reaction. They waved him off, driving less than five minutes before reaching Draco's own flat.

"Later, Drake. Tell Tori we said hi!" Trav spoke as he moved from the backseat to the passenger seat, waving at the blonde. The band felt neither here nor there about his girlfriend. They'd all agreed that she was pretty, but John had voiced that he could tell that she was far more invested than Draco was. He didn't need to reply for the other boy to know that he'd been right. They just sort of got each other in that way.

"Have fun shagging, you two." He winked at his friends. It was the running joke that 'since John and Trav were both single and lived together, that they secret lovers. Laughing as they both gave him the bird, he found himself waving them off as he entered his building for the first time in four months. How sweet it was, he thought to himself sarcastically.

His flat was comfortable, though not very personal. He spent most of his time in the muggle world out, exploring or going to concerts. He had yet to need to take a job for money on the side, and figured that he wouldn't have to now that he's in a signed band. He had to admit that the fact was reassuring, as working a minimum wage job for muggles didn't seem appealing whatsoever. The Malfoy in him lived on, after all. Setting his small bag down near the door, he nearly collapsed on his couch.

He had a spacious flat with two bedrooms, in case anyone needed to crash after a night of partying, a top of the line kitchen, and a bathroom complete with a whirlpool bathtub. He was nearly asleep on his couch when he heard a familiar 'pop.' Looking up, he found his gorgeous girlfriend looking back at him.

She had visited several times since he started the last tour, going to two of his shows and trying to show her support. _'Her fake support,_' his mind thought before he could stop himself. He didn't have to be a Legilimens to tell that her patience for him was wearing thin. Obviously she had thought that this was merely a passing phase, one that he would soon get over. The closer he became to his band mates, the more positive he was that he was hooked on the life he had created for himself.

Always the doting boyfriend (_snort_) Draco rose from the couch and greeted her with an enthusiastic smile. "Hello, love." He pulled her into a short kiss and had to physically hold back his eye roll when she barely responded. They'd be lucky to last another month; he couldn't help but to think that it wasn't a bad thing.

"I've missed you," she murmured, wrapping her arms around his torso and squeezing. As on the rocks as they were, he couldn't help but to find her presence comforting. After all, she's the only witch that he's seen in about a year, and there was something comforting about knowing that his other life wasn't a complete secret to every soul he knew.

"And I, you." Was his simple response, pressing a short kiss on the top of her bright blonde head.

She pulled back with a somewhat warmer smile than the one she had arrived with. He found that the more time she spent with him, the less she cared about his new life. Her troubles with it seemed to fade whenever she was graced with his warm embrace. His troubles over the lack of love on his end didn't, however. It was painfully obvious to him whenever he was away that he didn't love her, as the thought of her passed over his mind as frequently as he thought 'I should really quit smoking.' This was about once a month.

"Let's go out tonight, it's been too long since we've had a proper date." She proposed with a smile that reminded him of a child who'd been granted candy for the first time ever. It was quite endearing.

Moving them to the couch, he frowned in the slightest. "I'd love to, but we have our last show of the tour tonight."

Trying to hide her dismay, she kept the smile glued to her face—though it was obviously less natural now, especially to someone who knew her so well. "Skip it," she suggested lightly, her voice like sugar. Artificial sugar, that is.

He scoffed at this suggestion, "I'm the lead singer; I can't simply skip it."

"Perhaps we can go out after?" She questioned with her hopes slightly higher at this possibility.

Exasperated, Draco shook his head with too much vigor. "Do you not listen to me when I speak? It's the last night of tour; we're going to be holding a party in celebration afterwards!" His words came out harsher than he had planned, and he could tell this by her stiffened posture. "I'm sorry," he spoke softer this time, "couldn't we go out tomorrow? It's my first night back."

She sat up this time. "Yes, exactly, it's your first night back in_ months_. One would assume you'd like to spend it with your girlfriend! But if it's otherwise, don't let me get in your way." She paused, before taking a stand from the couch. "I'm not feeling well. I'll see you tonight at the concert." And before he could reply, she was gone just as quickly as she came with another 'pop.'

Honestly, Draco couldn't bother himself with caring about the incident. He'd realized with a start that sound check was in two hours, and he still wanted a nap and a shower. So he did just that.

…

Hermione had a difficult time ever driving places. With a few years of apparating under her belt, any other alternative seemed like it took a lifetime. This was tripled when she was in the busy streets of London, and it wasn't uncommon for her to boycott the method of transportation whenever possible. It was pretty easy to convince people that she took the bus to save money if they questioned the whereabouts of her car, or where she parked. The young witch was fairly sure she'd filled up her tank with gas about two months ago, and the thought was fairly amusing to her.

Rachel would be green with envy if she knew.

Her thoughts went over that, among other things, as she got dressed for the concert she was set to attend that night. She hated dressing for concerts, honestly. A dress usually screamed 'I want to fuck the musicians' but at the same time, so did a homemade t-shirt (she snorted to herself, as if she'd ever wear that …anywhere, much less to a show.) In the end, she wore high-waist shorts paired with a crop top and combat boots.

Whenever she visited with Harry and Ginny, they didn't pretend to hide the shock at how their best friend had changed, both in style and personality. While it was obvious that she was still the same person, the transformation of her in many other aspects was odd to them. She dressed more boldly, and seemed much more concerned in fashion than she ever was as a witch (considering a robe is a robe is a robe.) Moreover, though, she held a new sort of confidence. She knew who she was, and she wasn't changing for anything. Both of her best friends from the wizarding world admired that about her.

She decided to apparate about a block from the venue, ending up in a dark alley and her bag draped across her shoulder. She could already see people on the road walking in the direction of the concert, and stepped from the shadows to join them. She grimaced when seeing the line wrap around the building of the venue, wonder on her face. The last time she'd seem them in concert there was no more than fifty people there. The band sure picked up a following fairly quickly.

Pushing her tamed curls behind her ear, she began to scan the crowd for a familiar pink head. Rachel's hair made finding her as easy as it is to find a lighthouse on a dark night; it took Hermione nearly thirty seconds to spot her best friend near the front of the line. The girl was talking animatedly with an attractive young male, that just so happened to be the second in line. This detail wasn't lost on Hermione as she smiled at the boy that Rachel introduced as Ted. Todd? She wasn't sure, but it didn't really matter, as she wouldn't be talking to him in twenty minutes anyways.

Rachel would have been sorted into Slytherin if she had gone to Hogwarts; Hermione had not a single doubt in her mind. She could already picture her friend as she stalked her prey, probably to the bathroom but maybe as he went to get food or something. She could see her accidentally bumping into him and chatting him up, acting as if it were some coincidence that they were going to the same show. She'd casually mention that she just got there, and he'd offer to let her stand with him. Perhaps it's sad that she knew her best friend that well, but she tried not to dwell on it.

In the end, the second they go inside, the girls will pretend to lose him in the crowd. Rachel is really quite predictable, but she came in handy from time to time. As the crowd began to move, and they entered the venture, Hermione couldn't help but to bask in her favorite smell of all time. Venues tend to all smell like bleach and old cigarettes to her, and she happened to find the combination heavenly.

They found a nice little spot in the back corner, high enough that they could sit on their bar stools but close enough to be able to make out the faces of everyone on stage. Ted/Todd was nowhere to be found, but then again, she really wasn't too shocked about that fact. To kill time before the show started, the two ordered drinks. Hermione chose a nice domestic beer, while Rachel ordered a rum and Coke. They then proceeded to play "I Spy" until _finally_ the place was full of mostly teenage girls, a few guys thrown in here or there (most likely boyfriends of said girls, she assumed.) The lights dimmed and the opener played. The first band was decent, but by the time the second band started their second song, she was zoning out completely.

Thoughts of her research paper on Monet, as well as her current painting, plagued her mind as she waited patiently for the band to leave the stage. She was currently working on a portrait of herself and Rachel, to give the other girl on her birthday. While she'd already completed Rachel's aspect of the photo, she couldn't quite get the motivation to do herself as well. It was sitting in her flat, half-finished and laughing mercilessly at her for her failure. Nothing bothered the book worm more than failure.

Eventually, it was Graceland's turn to perform. _'Finally,_' Hermione couldn't help herself from thinking.

Rachel was much more vocal about her relief, "About bloody time!" She just short of screamed, obviously not enjoying the music of the second opener either. She was currently on her third rum and Coke, and Hermione could only roll her eyes, knowing full well that she'd be driving her friend home tonight. She let out a relieved sigh as the lights dimmed once again and the members of the band slowly made their way to the stage.

What Hermione enjoyed most about this particular band was that they never tried to be showy with a fog machine and over-extravagant lighting. They simply let their talent do the talking for them, and it was a quality that she enjoyed; their humbled shows made them seem more real and genuine. One by one the members walked out, grabbing their respected instruments and plugging in. Travis, the one with wild hair that reminded Hermione vaguely of Hagrid, was the first to arrive on the stage. He gave an enthusiastic wave, looking way too happy to be there. It was quite endearing, she noted. The next was the raven haired bass player—Kennedy, she believes his name to be- giving a lazy wave and a small smile. He was attractive because it seemed that he not only wasn't aware of how handsome he is, but that he could also care less about appearances. He, in Hermione's opinion, seemed the most real. The next was the guitarist, John. She snuck a glance at her best friend, watching as she visibly swooned. It was a well-known fact that John was Rachel's absolute favorite member of the band, and Hermione could definitely understand why. He gave the crowd a slight salute and a crooked smile, plugging his guitar into the amplifier. He was by far the most attractive of the three, and her pink haired friend was well aware of that.

They began playing a familiar tune from their first album, and it wasn't until the singing part started that the new lead singer ran on stage. The crowd went absolutely crazy, but Hermione felt as if she'd stop breathing right there. No one would even notice over the commotion, anyways. She almost… _almost _didn't recognize her old schoolmate. One couldn't really blame her, as he looked like a completely different person.

Draco Malfoy was singing into a muggle microphone, to muggle fans, in muggle London. She had no idea how to react whatsoever, so in the end she simply stared with her mouth agape. He was wearing a denim jacket that had the sleeves cut off rather roughly, with no shirt on underneath. Paired with that was black skinny jeans and—she couldn't help glancing at her own as she noticed this—a pair of combat boots. He looked rock 'n roll, through and through. She had no idea what to even… just. What?

Draco's hair was longer now and messy on the top of his head, pushed to the side. If it had been combed, it would almost look professional. Instead, though, it was messy and careless. What probably surprised her most were his tattoos. He had half of sleeve on the arm opposite of his Dark Mark, an undistinguishable one on his ribs, and one over his heart. On his nose was a small ring, and on his skin was a tan.

'_A tan!'_ She thought in disbelief. She wasn't aware it was even possible for a Malfoy to tan. The image of him burning several times before reaching the tanned state he was in now was enough to crack a smile on the shocked girls face.

Rachel, mistaking her shock for attraction, nudged her. "I told you he was bloody gorgeous." As much as she hated to admit it, her friend was right. The new looked suited him well, as if that was how he was always supposed to look. On top of that, his voice really was quite good. It was raw, the pure rock and roll sound that many singers could only wish to achieve. It was the type of thing only granted to a few lucky people. Why Draco Malfoy was one of those people was beyond her.

After the first song finished, she couldn't help the fact that her eyes were glued only to him as he grinned at the cheering fans. "Good evening, London!" He paused to let the applause died down before he spoke again, "This is 'Heroine.' Try to keep your knickers on." The singer gave a mischievous smirk at that as he began singing the words to the next song, an extremely sexual one.

He had an amazing stage presence as well, she had to admit. She watched as he pranced around it, at times draping an arm over John's shoulders or stealing an extra drum stick from Trav and hitting the symbols. It was a complete one-eighty from the boy she'd known ever since she was eleven. He looked carefree and happy, perhaps for the first time since she's ever known him. She couldn't help but to think that he belonged on that stage. It was a surreal thought to have, as she would never in a hundred years guess that he belonged anywhere near a stage. Who knew he could even sing, anyways? Certainly not Hermione Granger.

Her thoughts flashed back to the Manor, and being tortured in front of his very eyes. It had hurt her, no doubt, but she knew there wasn't much he could physically do at that point. Not if he himself weren't to get tortured as well, anyways. Despite that, she'd held her grudge towards him for most of her 7th year. She had found it difficult to do just that, though, because he ignored the Golden Trio at all costs.

No sneers or insults were thrown their way from the Slytherin. Instead, he ignored their very existence. She knew that ignoring them was the best he could do, as he hadn't been a nice person back then. He was bitter about his life, and rightly so. It was when Theodor Nott, Head Boy, had told her that Draco declined the position that Nott got appointed as a second choice that she decided to let go of any lingering grudge. She felt, perhaps unjustly, that he did it because he knew it would have bothered her. In retrospect, she knew that it was probably silly of her younger self to think that. There's no way that he could've known it was her as Head Girl until they'd arrived at Hogwarts. Still, the thought softened her opinion of him greatly.

It seemed as if that was a different person entirely though and as she was busy trying to wrap her head around this unexpected twist; the show came to a close. How long had she been lost it thought? It had to have been at least an hour long time slot… she looked to her best friend, who looked blissfully happy, and smiled slightly. Rachel always got high on the power of live music, she always told Hermione of how it resonated in her soul in a way that nothing else did.

"Fag?" Her friend shouted, slightly too loud to be acceptable. They'd been sitting directly under a speaker, and the result was a constant ringing in both of the young women's ears. Nodding, Hermione linked arms with the other girl, so they wouldn't get separated in the crowd. They elected to go out the side door to avoid the mass of people all trying to leave the same way they had come in.

It was a humid night indeed, the heat hitting both of the girls like a tidal wave as they exited the premises. As they both retrieved their respected cigarettes, Hermione felt her nose wrinkling unhappily as a particularly strong wind blew past them. The gust brought with it a quite unpleasant smell, one that reminded the brunette of vomit. "We're right next to the dumpster. Let's go around the corner."

Without another word, the pair turned the corner. They were now in the back of the small venue, hidden from the bands' white vans by a mound of cardboard boxes. It was quite obvious to Hermione that they were waiting to be chucked in the trash can around the corner, but she enjoyed the shelter. If they were casually hanging out by the vans, they would appear to be crazy fangirls. While she didn't care what the band members thought of her, she knew that if Draco were to exit the building, she would never hear the end of it. Lighting her fag quickly, she tossed her friend the lighter.

"So, can we just talk about how brilliant their new singer is? Most of the time when bands replace their lead singer, they go to complete shit. This was actually a vast improvement… what bloody luck they have." Rachel ranted with a grin on her petite face, obviously still intoxicated on the raw power of live music. As well as the alcohol she'd consumed.

A small, secret smile was graced upon the curly haired woman's face, as she opened her mouth to reply. Before the opportunity arose, though, she was cut off by the sound of the back door opening and an angry voice arriving with it. "I already told you, I can't bloody go out tonight!" She recognized that voice, but just barely. The Draco she knew never raised his voice, but chose to use his silence as the intimidation factor instead.

"Can't and won't are two very different things, Draco! You could go out but you don't want to. Just admit it and we won't have _any fucking_ problem here!" The voice was not an unkind one, though she didn't seem particularly happy at the moment. Hermione could vaguely recognize it, and it took her a good minute to figure out how. Rachel helped with that greatly, as she gestured for Hermione to peak through a hole in one of the boxes with her. Feeling childish, she obliged. If she was being forced to be mature or let her curiosity get the best of her, curiosity won with no competition.

The younger woman, perhaps by two or three years, held a strong resemblance to Daphne Greengrass. It became obvious to the bright witch that this was her younger sister. What was her name again? Tori... something… it hit her fairly quickly from there. Astoria Greengrass, a Ravenclaw. She'd never met the other witch, but she'd heard good things about her. A very bright and beautiful young woman, people often mentioned as they spoke of her.

"Fine! _I don't want to fucking go_! Are you happy now? Everything brilliant for you?" He muttered with obvious impatience. "We've already been through this conversation about five times and still we keep going in circles, so I'm going to venture to guess that the answer is no?"

She watched as the younger Greengrass' posture hunched, her head hung low. "Why can't you love me like I love you?" The statement came out no louder than a whisper, but Hermione had heard it nevertheless. By the surprised glance that Rachel had cast to her, it was obvious that her friend had as well.

Draco hung his head as well, at least having the audacity to look shamed. "It isn't as if I haven't tried, love." He paused for a moment, seemingly to collect his thoughts, "I think what we want is too different. Maybe we would've gotten married in an alternate universe…but I don't want that for myself anymore. I'm happier here than I ever have been, and you live in another world entirely."

"This is the end, isn't it?" The woman replied, sadness evident in her voice. When she received a simple nod in return, she didn't appear to try to stop herself from wrapping her arms around him. He returned the hug, rubbing her back as a comforting sort of gesture. "I really love you." She murmured into his chest.

"I know." Was his simple reply. Hermione pulled back from the opening in the box, suddenly feeling as if she'd interfered with far too personal of a moment to feel right about herself. That moment was meant only for them, and yet here she was: his school nemesis, watching another girl's heart shatter on the floor because of him and not having the decency to look away. Only a few moments passed before she heard the familiar 'pop' of apparition.

Suddenly remembering her muggle friend, her stare turned to the pink haired girl so quickly that one would think that she caught fire. It happened in slow motion, really. The other girl, so shocked at seeing someone disappear in front of her eyes, dropped her still burning fag. Said fag landed on the girl's leg, and it was only a few seconds before she hopped up from her crouched position behind the boxes and muttered a loud, "fuck!"

Hermione let her head fall into her palm, slowly standing as well. She'd accepted the fact that Draco lived in the muggle world as a singer, although it was difficult to do, but she hadn't made plans to approach the wizard about it. She was content on letting him live out the life he made for himself. It wasn't like they were friends, she had no obligations to say hello to the man. Now it would appear that the choice was out of her hands.

"Who's there?" He snapped, his eyes squinting through the darkness to stare at the two girls. Frowning, Hermione stepped into the dim light. A still shocked Rachel shuffled out as well, but she was switching her gaze from Hermione to Draco every few seconds with shock still alive on her face. Obviously, she picked up on the fact that a person _vanishing_ _in front of her very eyes _was more surprising to her than it was to her best friend. They had some things to talk about later. "Granger?" She couldn't quite place the look on the man's face, having only seen one expression throughout their years at Hogwarts: distain.

"Quite observant, Draco." The use of his first name surprised her just as much as it surprised him. At least that expression was easy enough to identify, she couldn't help but to think. For some reason, she couldn't call him Malfoy anymore. Malfoy had been the boy that teased her in school, calling her vicious names and hating the fact that she was a Muggle-born. Draco lived among Muggles every day, and seemed quite happy about it. The two didn't go together, and try as she might, uttering Malfoy instead of Draco felt wrong no matter how she looked at it.

Before he could retort, Rachel spoke up instead. "You two know each other?" If it was at all possible for her to look more shocked, Hermione thought that her face might get stuck that way. It wasn't every day that your best friend knows the lead singer of your favorite band, who had an ex-girlfriend that can vanish at will. Because the answer to her original question was quite obvious, her friend decided to rephrase it: "How do you know each other?"

The thought had crossed Hermione's mind to obliviate her friend and make her forget that the whole thing happened, but she didn't have the heart. Instead, she decided to be honest. "We went to a school for witches and wizards together." He eyes flickered to Draco quickly, "We didn't exactly get along."

Rachel was silent for a while, and Hermione couldn't help but be surprised that neither of the two had walked off yet. She couldn't imagine Draco was interested in the conversation that was about to take place. Although, on the other hand, it wasn't only her secret that she just let out, but his as well. It wasn't as surprising when she looked at it that way. Instead of looking at her like she was a loon, Rachel nodded. "My great grandmum was part … oh damn, I forgot the word for it. A villa?"

Without really thinking, Draco and Hermione corrected her at the same time: "A veela." They glanced at each other, meeting eyes for a split second before looking away again.

Hermione, on the other hand, continued afterwards. "No wonder you can get any man to shag you. Veela's are known for their dangerously desirable qualities, to put it mildly. It's surprising you don't have magic in you as well, though."

Rachel simply shrugged. "Watered down genetics, I suppose. Or perhaps I'm just unlucky. Maybe my kid will be able to do some bizarre shit like you." Hermione stiffened, looking at her former school mate and glancing at his Dark Mark without being able to stop herself. She switched her gaze to her feet as he crossed his arms with a scowl. "It's no wonder you fare so well with the London traffic."

"Well," drawled Draco in a way that reminded Hermione so much of her school days that she couldn't help but to smile, "not that this isn't a blast, but I have an after party to attend." He paused, seemingly considering something before blurting, "You're both free to come along if you so desire."

The girls responded simultaneously: "No, thanks." "Totally!"

Hermione groaned as Rachel raised an eyebrow, "Why are we even having this conversation? We both know that I'll talk you into it in some way or another. Are we really going to pretend otherwise? I mean, you are my best friend, so you above anyone would know how much this means to me…"

The way Hermione crossed her arms in defeat was enough for the other two to know that she cracked, and Draco couldn't help but to smirk at how easy it was for the Veela to convince her best friend. "It'll be in the Musicians Penthouse at the Corinthia. Arrive whenever, the others are already there." With that, he entered the venue once more. The slamming door echoed in the night, and Hermione's mind.

…

Hermione was surprised at how exclusive this particular party actually was. In the absolutely beautiful penthouse, there couldn't be more than about 25 people there. When she arrived, people from Graceland's label were there as well. The two had gotten there just in time to overhear the man congratulate the bands on the success of the tour, welcome Draco to the band once more, and threaten everyone there that if they break anything there will be major hell to pay.

They had left fairly quickly, and that's when the party actually began. In the living room were the two opening bands with whoever they invited, mostly significant others but it appeared that a couple people there were simply friends of the bands. Hermione and Rachel stopped by there on the way in, introducing themselves and telling each band how spectacular they were. It was a lie, of course, as they'd been bored out of their minds. They didn't need to know that, though.

Feeling quite lost in such a large hotel room, the lead singer from the first band smiled in their direction: "The Gracelanders are on the roof….patio, thing. If you follow those stairs," he pointed in the general direction of a set of stairs, "you won't be able to miss them."

Rachel smiled gratefully at the young man and muttered a quick "thanks," before the two set off. Hermione could swear that she saw the young boy swoon, and snorted beneath her breath. "Merlin, why do I feel as if this will be incredibly awkward for us?" She wondered aloud, causing her best friend to send an uncharacteristic smirk her way.

"Because it will be. I told you we should've have come." Hermione shot back in a tone that resembled herself in her first year at Hogwarts, when she was a 'know-it-all' as Ron had often called it.

As they climbed the stairs to the patio, her friend shot her a glare. "Shut it."

The patio was absolutely beautiful, with flowers scattered about it and candles lit. There was a coffee table in between two very posh-looking couches, and once those couches end there was a padded bench that extended along the wall of the entire rooftop. If you looked to the right of the stairs, you had a beautiful view of the London Eye.

Sitting around the table was a very intimate group of people. It was literally simply the band, and a girl who appeared to be Kennedy's girlfriend. She was quite breathtaking, with straight black hair that matched her boyfriends, only it ended right above her arse. Even from the stairway Hermione could see her crystal blue eyes. "Err. Hello." She found herself muttering, forcing a smile on her face.

Everyone was wearing the same thing that they had been at the show, only it appeared that they all showered before arriving to the penthouse. Draco replaced his simple vest with a black v-neck, as well. Said boy stood, walking to the two girls and smiling at them. "Glad you could make it." Hermione tried to remember the last time that Draco Malfoy genuinely smiled in her direction, before she realized that it had never happened before. There really is a first for everything. "Ladies, this is everyone." He gestured to the group of people before turning back to them, "Everyone, this is Hermione Granger and…"

"Rachel Daniels. Nice to meet you all." Rachel filled in for him, grinning at everyone—but particularly John. Rachel, never one to be shy, walked to the mini fridge and peered inside. She chose the coke, adding rum to the cup that she'd retrieved from the small drink table. She then proceeded to settle into the seat on the couch open next to her favorite band member, extending her hand with a cheesy smile. Her being at ease broke the awkward silence that had previously settled upon the deck, and everyone broke into their previous conversations once more.

That left Draco and herself the only two standing, looking at each other in a rather awkward manner. "Err. Would you like something to drink?" He offered, guiding them over to the drink table and miniature fridge.

Wordlessly, she kneeled down to peer inside the contents of the fridge. She was quick to decide upon the bottle of white wine, pulling it out and setting it upon the table. Her eyes scanned the room for a wine opener, which Draco passed to her. "I'm sorry if I'm terribly awkward," she started, looking at the taller man with wide eyes as she twisted the cork off methodically, "If… well. If I'm to be honest, I have no idea how to act around you…" The cork popped off with a dull 'thud' and she set it upon the table as she poured the liquid into a wine glass. She met his silver eyes as she finished her thought, surprised at how different they looked as compared to when they were in school. "We have this… extremely detailed history together, yet we never knew anything important about the other. Now here we are, not even the same people that we didn't know back then. It's just. It's quite an odd situation, as I'm sure you're aware."

Draco surprised her by chuckling lightly, "I'm quite aware of the awkward situation, Granger. How about I offer a solution?"

She took a light sip of her wine, staring at the beautiful lights on the Eye. "Go on."

He extended his hand toward her, holding it out to shake. When she placed her hand in his to do just that, he brought it up to his mouth and placed a chaste kiss on the back of it. "The name's Draco. Didn't we attend school together?"

A small laugh bubbled in her chest at the ridiculous man, "Hmm. I think I may have seen you around. Were you the one who used to steal peoples lunch money?"

Draco scoffed with vigor, letting the woman's hand fall to her side, as it had originally been. "As if a Malfoy would have to resort to stealing for food, _really,_ Granger."

Her smile was completely natural, and her voice had amusement evident in it as she corrected him, "Hermione. You can call me Hermione."

In return, his smile was sheepish. "Old habits die hard."

"Hey loners, come join the party!" Shouted Travis, waving them over with a natural smile on his face. He really reminded Hermione of a grown child, and it was amusing if nothing else. She ended up in a seat between Kennedy's girlfriend and Draco, sipping on her glass, not feeling entirely uncomfortable.

She looked at the girl to her right of her with a small smile, "Pleased to meet you, I'm Hermione." She introduced, holding her hand out for a shake.

The girl beside her had quite a beautiful smile, her white teeth seemingly sparkling as she shook her hand. "My name's Rosaline, but I usually go by Rose. Well, not usually, I pretty much always do. This is Kenny," she pointed to her boyfriend, who didn't have a drink in his hand but his eyes were bloodshot enough to tell Hermione that he was having a good time anyways. "You're so pretty." She spoke with wide eyes, leaning forward a little so she could see Draco, on the other side of Hermione. "She's so pretty, Draco."

Draco had an amused smile on his face, his eyes full of humor. "That she is."

Hermione felt like a shy 2nd year again, as her cheeks heated quite dramatically. She was blushing because Draco Malfoy agreed that she was easy on the eyes? _Really?_ She mentally cursed herself, tucking a piece of hair behind her ear. "Thank you." And she cursed herself once more, as her voice resembled a child, squeaky and soft.

"How did you two meet again?" The raven haired beauty asked out of curiosity, her head tilted slightly.

"We attended grade school together," Hermione replied with a small smile, "A lot of interesting memories from those times, for sure."

Rose perked at this though, grinning. "So you knew him during his 'lost years,' eh? We can never get him to talk about what he was like as a teenager. I have to admit, I'm kind of curious. Any fun stories?"

"Not really…" She glanced at the man besides her, their eyes meeting for longer than necessary, before she looked back at her new acquaintance. "He was… a lady killer with the occasional anger problems."

Rose snorted playfully, "Sounds charming."

Clearing her throat, Hermione decided to change the subject and gestured to John and Rachel, who were talking animatedly. "They seem to be hitting it off rather well. I give him three days before she moves on."

"Ah, we have a man eater among our mist? This should be interesting enough; John is quite the womanizer himself. I'll give them a week." Rose concluded, taking a sip of her unidentified mixed drink.

"How wrong you both are." Piped Travis, causing the four sitting across from him to shift their gaze to him. "They're going to get married."

The girls both scoffed, Draco remained indifferent, and Kennedy nodded in agreement. "Look at them, man. They're so caught up in each other that they don't even know we're talking about them. Definite marriage on the way." Kenny nodded, reaching across the table to high five Travis.

"Care to wager on it?" Hermione asked with a sharp grin. "If Rose and I are right, and they break up, the pair of you both will owe us ten pounds each. Vice versa if you're correct." When the boys took the bet, the four of them took turns shaking hands with everyone involved in the arrangement.

"Here's a suggestion," Draco spoke, once all was said and done, "why don't you lot mind your own business?" His tone wasn't cruel, but amused. He carried such a light personality now, it genuinely blew her mind. It was as if he didn't have a care in the world, and never had.

"Bugger off, I'm about to make some money." Rose spoke, waving her hand dismissively in Draco's direction. "How about we play a game?"

Travis snorted, "A drinking game? What are we, college students?" But then he paused to think about it, realizing that they were all about the age of college students, and decided to pretend it never happened. "How about the old fallback, Ring of Fire?"

"Someone said something about Ring of Fire?" John spoke, his ears almost perking as he returned his attention to the group. "Well what're we doing here, let's get this shit done! Do we want to get fucked up enough that we play Kings Cup version?"

"Is that even a question?" Draco asked with raised eyebrows, standing and walking over to the drink table. He proceeded to pull the table on wheels closer to the coffee table. He grabbed a deck of cards from the table on wheels, as well as an empty cup, and set them on the coffee table. "I assume everyone knows how to play?" He questioned, satisfied when no one objected. Travis was quick to spread the cards in a circle around the cup, as Draco grabbed the wine bottle and put it by him and Hermione's feet with a smirk.

She raised an eyebrow at him but said nothing, failing to hide the smile that had been on her face since they arrived. They all stared blankly at the others around the table, daring someone to go first. With an exasperated sigh, Rachel reached over and flipped a card.

She pulled an 8, which meant that she could pick someone as her 'mate.' Basically, whenever she drank, the other person had to drink. "As always, you're my date, 'Mione." The part Veela grinned, happy at the scowl her best friend was giving her.

John was next, and he pulled a J. There were collective groans around the table, as J was 'Never Have I Ever.' Everyone had to hold up three fingers, taking turns saying things they've never done. If you have done said thing, you put a finger down. The first with no fingers loses, and therefore drinks. As John pulled it, he was first. "Never have I ever had shoulder length hair."

Trav glared at the man next to him, just as the girls around the table did as well. "Never have I ever had a one night stand." Draco, John, Rachel, and Rose all put their fingers down.

As Kenny wasn't playing, the next was Rose. "Never have I ever had sex outdoors." John, Rachel, and to everyone's surprise, Hermione were the only ones to put their fingers down at this.

Malfoys eyebrows were to his hairline as he quipped, "Who knew the Weasel was so adventurous."

Hermione decided that the comment didn't warrant a reply, but apparently Rachel did. "Oh he wasn't."

"Rachel!" The witch screeched at her best friend, "You just lost, shut up and drink your rum!"

"If I lost, you lost, dumbass."

As the game progressed, it got more and more sloppy. After playing one and a half games, the group quit—as everyone was hammered enough as it was. They had all been on a controllable level, but if they ventured to finish the second game, chances are someone would eventually throw up off the side of the building. The band had to assume that the label would put that in the same category as breaking furniture. Instead, they put on music and were chatting among themselves. The other bands, now tipsy as well, came to the roof to keep the original group company. It was cramped to say the least.

Hermione had been in the middle of an in-depth conversation with the lead singer of the second, boring band about Monet when she noticed Draco off to the side, lazily staring at the London Eye and smoking a fag. She quickly excused herself and took the liberty to take a seat beside the young man on the bench. "'Ello, loner." She spoke in a breezy manner, the alcohol in her system making her even happier than normal.

"Hello, my beautiful little lush." He replied, taking a puff of his cigarette with a small smile on his face. So small, in fact, that one really had to search to see it. His eyes gave him away, however.

"Takes one to know one," She shot back rather childishly, as she lit up a cigarette of her own. "What's going on up there, anything of consequence?" She couldn't help but to ask, tapping the young man's head with her pointer finger.

"Nothing at all." He replied, looking somewhat distant through the haze of the alcohol. "You know, this muggle stuff is alright, but there's nothing quite like firewhiskey."

Hermione's eyes twinkled at that, "Of all the things you could miss about the other world, firewhiskey is the most prominent. How typical of you, always the rebel child at heart."

Draco smirked in return, "What can I say? Chicks dig bad boys."

The brunette let herself quiet down for a moment, staring at the man in front of her. "I'm sorry for eavesdropping earlier. It was quite childish, I admit, but we were unsure as to what else to do."

He simply shrugged in reply, "It's alright. I was more surprised than annoyed."

"How long were you guys together?" She questioned lightly, letting their eyes meet again. His were soft and friendly, and she found herself comforted by staring into them. She wondered vaguely how much of that was the alcohol and how much was the attraction she felt forward this new him. About fifty-fifty, the young woman supposed.

Draco looked deep in thought, "I'm not sure. A year and a half? Maybe two. We weren't together for most of it, as she worked and I was establishing my life as a Muggle."

"Are you sad?" Her reply was simple, but she couldn't help but to wonder. If you were dating someone for that long, surely you had to feel _something_ toward them.

"Not quite. More like relieved," When she raised his eyebrows at the boy, he decided to continue. "I always thought that if I started to love myself, then in turn I'd love her. Instead, discovering myself only drew her farther from me. I had become terribly unhappy, always trying to regress to my former self to please her. Sure, I'm a Malfoy, and because of that I'll almost always carry my arrogance on my sleeve. That part of me is embedded in there. I just wasn't content living my parent's life anymore, I suppose. ….what?" He questioned with a scowl, noticing the bizarre look on the woman sitting in front of him.

She shook her head, a light smile on her pink lips, "That just. It sounded so much like how Ron and I ended, it's sort of uncanny. If you remove the bit about the parents, I'd almost be sure you read it from my journal," The brunette paused, "Not that I have one, of course."

"Of course not, " He smirked in a way that made her sure that if he were to ever go to her flat, he'd search high and low for said journal that didn't exist, "Do you miss him?" He repeated her earlier question, flicking his now dead fag off the balcony carelessly.

"No." She didn't care to elaborate, completely over the Ron subject for a lifetime. After she glanced at him and saw that he seemed content with that answer, she pulled her knee towards her chest and rested her chin there. "Draco?" She started, earning a short 'hmm' as a response. "Don't you think it's odd that we both ended up so much alike when we started so differently? I mean… what are the chances that we met again in the circumstances that we did?"

Draco picked his drink from the floor, swooshing around the liquid inside it as he appeared to be deep in thought once again. "That's what I've been trying to figure out, as well. Call me queer, but… it feels like fate. Like we were meant to meet again for some reason."

Hermione couldn't stop herself from flushing, as that had been her exact thought as well. It was surreal that she would be having a conversation like this with Draco Malfoy, and yet… there they were, slightly tipsy and strikingly similar in more ways than one. Not knowing exactly how to carry on the conversation that she herself started, she settled with something much simpler: "Thanks for inviting me. Tonight was really interesting."

"_You're_ really interesting."

For the life of her, Hermione couldn't remember the last time she'd had the amount of butterflies causing a ruckus in her stomach as she did then.

An interesting night, indeed.


	4. II

The sun was bright on this particular September day, and Draco Malfoy found himself having to squint to shield his eyes from the harmful rays that were blinding him. He'd never been one for direct sunlight, unless it was on the Quidditch field, but things change. He's changed more than he thought was imaginable, and his enjoyment of the outdoors was only one of those things. So, he wasn't very bothered when he slipped his Rayban sunglasses from his pocket and put them on. Hell, it didn't even bother him when his shirt stuck to his back due to the humidity, or the condensation from his beer dripped what felt like _literally _all over his lap.

In fact, if you asked the blonde when he stopped needing to have his way constantly—he wouldn't be able to answer you. He would, however, acknowledge the change for what it was. He was happier when he simply didn't give a shit about anything. Breaking up with Astoria had been the release of a burden he'd been carrying; without realizing it, he started to resent her for the constant reminder of his past. While he liked to think that his parents didn't have much control over him, he knew it to be untrue. Astoria just represented everything his parents wanted him to be, everything he was using all his might to not be. Thinking of her, of the breakup, forced another face into his mind.

Draco could go on endlessly about his independence. It was something he was proud of, and perhaps the first real thing he'd done on his own. This is why he was the tiniest bit wary to admit, even to himself, that Hermione's face hadn't left his mind since their unexpected meeting only a week ago.

This is why he was wary to admit that he missed her already.

Never the romantic, the thought of love at first sight had always brought a chuckle to his throat. Alright, not a chuckle. It brought a hearty laugh that came from deep in his stomach.

Not that he would ever admit this, but the second that he saw his brainy childhood enemy… it all just seemed to make sense.

When he was a kid, it'd been easy to say that she was ugly because she was a Mudblood. Hell, if it wasn't her blood, it was her know-it-all attitude, her outrageous hair and buckteeth, the fact that she's physically hit him, her equally as horrible friends, and finally: Because she was a Gryffindor.

Just as all those things flashed in his mind at the sight of her, everything that he'd always ignored flashed before him as well. First and foremost, how much of an incredibly beautiful young woman that she was through unprejudiced eyes. It nearly knocked his breath away. He saw what the childish Draco wouldn't allow himself to: her amazing courage, her intelligence and wit, the fact that she wasn't afraid to take a stand for herself, and the sound of her laughter echoing through the Quidditch field and to his ears.

He was enchanted; there wasn't a doubt in his mind. Love at first sight was surely rubbish, but love at second meeting seemed less irrational. Like it almost made sense.

The only problem with it all (only life changing realizations of love, no big deal or anything) was that they hadn't exchanged numbers, or really any details about the others life. They'd spoken from a slightly tipsy heart and left it at that. Sure, he could apparate to her place, but that was too easy. He'd never win the girl simply by showing up, especially one that had so much history with him.

There were some things that he didn't do well, but women weren't one of them. He'd long ago figured out that the only thing you need to do to make a girl fall in love with you was to put in an effort (or, as younger Malfoy would sneer, pretend to put in an effort.)

It was only a coincidence that he and Harry had lunch plans so soon after he ran into the enchanting woman, but he wasn't going to pretend like it didn't aid him. As if he could read his thoughts, Draco spotted the aforementioned man walking toward him on the bright asphalt.

The blooming friendship between his former rival wasn't one that he put much thought into. After the death of his father, Harry had asked him out to dinner. It was extremely awkward for both of them, but he really appreciated the effort that the other man had made to make sure he was alright.

After a dry joke about it feeling like a first date, the two loosened up and eventually knocked back quite a few drinks, singing slurred songs through the empty streets and showing up at the apartment Harry shared with Ginny with a stolen lawn gnome. They insisted, in their drunken state, that she save it: "As a monument to our friendship!" This had somehow turned into their catchphrase for the night; at the pub, they'd been having drink after drink as a "monument to their friendship" as well.

Since then, they hung out fairly frequently—usually at least twice a month or so, at least until Draco left for tour. He'd never believe his life if someone had told him about it earlier, but he found that he was content with the adult he'd matured into. Besides, you could do worse than having a friend like Harry. He stilled grinned every time he apparated to the other man's flat and spotted the lawn gnome perched proudly on the end table.

Pressing his fag to his mouth and inhaling, Draco grinned at his friend. "About bloody time. What were you doing exactly, your hair?"

"Oy! You know it's the make up that takes me time… I can't master lipstick without looking like a clown." Harry responded as he watched the other man stub out his cigarette and nod towards the door of the restaurant they'd agree to meet at.

As the men moved through the threshold of the door, Draco couldn't help but to snort loudly. "Hate to break it to you mate, but that isn't the lipstick." This earned him a smack in the back of the head, but he thought it was a fair trade off.

Because Draco had gotten there on time (although he should've known to come ten minutes late, it IS Harry he was meeting, after all) the two made their way over to the table he'd already gotten for them. "Where's Gin?"

Ginny and he had gotten closer than he would've guessed. She usually came out to eat with them whenever they went out, and he could vaguely remember sobbing on the woman's shoulder after the death of his mother. After that, she turned into his confidant. For a Weasley, he found that the young lady was really quite lovely.

"She's actually having a girl's day with Hermione." Harry spoke, his voice seeming to be searching for something and his eyes probing his friend just the same. "What was that?" He exclaimed with a huge grin and an over exaggerated point of his finger.

With a moment of luck, the waitress came to take their orders at that exact moment. She didn't stay long enough for Draco's liking, as he'd been hoping to put off the Hermione subject, at least for a while. After all, he still needed Harry's help, didn't he? Still, he felt the need to fight the idea that the other man could tell something was up by simply mentioning Hermione's name.

Raising an eyebrow, the blonde took a final swig of his beer. "What are you on about?"

"Well, I was talking about Hermio—you definitely just did it again."

Exasperated, Draco slammed his empty bottle down and signaled for two more. "How did you do that?"

It was Harry's turn to snort, "All I did was say her name and you looked like a toothpaste advertisement. Really sly, Malfoy. Was she at the concert last week?" The brunette is a lot of things, but discreet wasn't one of them. He had a knowing look on his face that couldn't have made him look more obvious if he tried, and the fact that he'd guessed that she was at the concert was too convenient.

Draco raised an eyebrow and crossed his arms, using the infamous Malfoy glare."What do you know?"

"Like I'm afraid of your spaghetti arms, Drake. But I'll tell you, because we're friends." Harry amused himself by playing with the label of his beer bottle, trying to find the words to admit that he and his significant other meddled more than he'd usually admit. "Well… it just… alright. So, this is actually a really elaborate plan that we never thought would work. You'd told us, about a year ago, that you were looking for a muggle band to sing for and… I mean, Ginny happened upon an iPod that Arthur had gotten her from the ministry."

The boy across the table from him couldn't help but to let out a sigh. "Anytime today, Pot-head."

In return, his friend gave him a similar sigh. "Ginny really liked this band, Graceland, and after reading online, realized that the main singer was only a few mishaps away from every fan hating him. She figured that if the fan base was so annoyed with him, the management would be twenty times more annoyed. So. She gave Hermione's muggle friend, Rachel, concert tickets—which is another story all together—and…ran interference with the lead singer until he was late for practice pretty much every day. That's why the London show was the last that he'd played before being kicked out. We'd planned it that way."

Draco was never quite good with emotions, so he wasn't sure how he should feel to learn this news. A big, solid lump formed in his throat without his realization, so it was a surprise that he had to clear his throat before speaking again. "So when I saw the poster to audition after Ginny insisted that she wanted ice cream…"

"…we led you right to it. Yes. Anyways, we knew that Rachel would probably bring Hermione to the concert with her. It had only been luck that they went to your show as well, although that had kind of been the intention from the start."

There was only one question on Draco's mind, so after a brief pause it seemed to pop out of his mouth before he had control. "What would possess you to do that?"

Harry gave his friend one of his signature grins, with a slight shrug of the shoulders. "Ginny did pretty much all of it. We just… we really want you to be happy. You seemed hell bent on being a singer - and we wanted to help you achieve that. As for playing matchmaker… You have the same taste in foods, movies, and the same ferocity. Hell, sometimes you guys even sound like the other. You're so strikingly similar that sometimes Gin and I have to pause in awe."

Awe was the only thing on Draco's mind. How did he get lucky enough to have friends who cared about him so much that they actively sabotaged some poor Muggles blossoming career? Moreover, friends who cared about his happiness that much. "And you couldn't just set us up because…?"

"Would you have gone out with her, if I said who it was?" Well… "That's what I thought. She'd be the same, but worse. Hermione is nothing if not suborn."

Deciding that he couldn't really comment on everything he just learnt before processing it, Draco decided to change the subject. "Is that the big news that you wanted to tell me?"

"Actually, no. I wanted to ask you to be a groomsman in my wedding."

It took less than a second for the exuberant young Malfoy to stand from his side of the table and pull Harry into a bro hug. "About bloody time you asked her, I thought I'd have to threaten you to do it soon." It was a year ago that Harry first admitted to the other man that he had bought Ginny a ring directly after the war. What he was waiting for, when it was obvious that Ginny would say yes, was lost on him—but either way, he was ecstatic for his friend.

Pushing his glasses up the bridge of his nose, Harry displayed a smirk that he'd perfected over the years. One that, annoyingly enough, reminded Draco of himself. "I think I could handle your 'super scary' threats, Drake. You're the one at this table wearing girl pants."

Scoffing, Draco leaned back in his chair with nonchalance. "You're talking to a seasoned Death Eater—"

"Seasoned my arse! You couldn't hurt a fly!" Harry barked with laughter, knowing how soft his friend had actually become when the world wasn't expecting him to be otherwise.

As their food arrived, the thought passed through Draco's mind that if there was an outside wizard looking in, they wouldn't believe their eyes. Despite that, somehow the friendship with his foe seemed like the most natural thing in the world.

…

For what felt like the first time in months, the sun was out and shining throughout London, and as much as Hermione Granger loves the rain when she works; sometimes the sun is the only thing that will do. She was currently hunched over a canvas, her paint scattered upon a plate in front of her. When she started this particular piece, she had no idea what she was about to create. Leaning back now that it began to take form though, she realized with a start what it was shaping into. A single silver eye, with various colors blending behind it.

It had been about a week since she went to the Graceland concert, and she found her life settling back into the regular, familiar pattern. Hence the reason why she was so startled to realize that she was painting a singular Malfoy eye. She hadn't thought about him since that night, why had she felt the need to portray him, in a sense, on her canvas?

The thought perturbed her more than she'd like to admit. The morning after the night in question, she had woken up sandwiched between Travis and Draco, fully clothed thankyouverymuch, but with a killer hangover. After finding Rachel naked with John in another room, which was enough to scar her for life, she dragged the pink haired Veela to make their exit. Draco had grabbed her elbow on the way out, and they paused, unsure on what to say next.

"Now what?" Draco had finally spoken, after what felt like ten long minutes. In reality, it was probably around ten long seconds.

She shrugged in return, hoisting her purse further up her shoulder. Luckily Rachel was busy talking to John, or her best friend would be rushing the two to get the show on the road. "I suppose if this is fate, we don't have to do anything, have we?" Talking about fate and all that rubbish felt much more foolish in the morning light, when they were both sober. Her cheeks grazed lightly with pink as she brought it up, refusing to meet his eyes.

Thinking back to how the man in front of her brushed a piece of hair from her cheek, and then dragged his finger under her chin to force her to meet his silver eyes still made shivers run down her spine. "I'm not sure it works like that, love."

_Love. _The term of endearment rolled off his tongue perfectly, and the thought of her being his love was enough to make her breath catch. Forcing herself not to swoon, the girl stuck her chin up in reply. "Well, I suppose I could give you my—"

"Let's go, bitch!" Screamed an overly energetic pixie from the door of her Mini Cooper; in less than a second, she followed this by laying on the horn. John was retreating from bidding her goodbye with a fond smile on his face, shaking his head.

"I guess she isn't hung over at all." He muttered as he passed the two, pausing to hug Hermione tightly. "Thanks for coming, dude. I'll see you again?"

A light breeze pushed past them, and Hermione couldn't help but to give the other band member a carefree smile. "Who knows?" A fist bump with Draco later and the other man retreated back into the hotel doors.

The whole band treated the two girls as if they'd known them forever, and she couldn't help but to appreciate that fact more than she'd like to admit. They'd walked into the party expecting the whole thing to be terribly awkward, but instead the girls were accepted as if they were a member of the band themselves. She hated to admit it, but she hadn't felt part of something so big since the war ended.

She understood completely why Draco seemed so carefree and happy… it's because he was. She had thought that she was as well, until she met those boys. Now she wasn't as sure.

"I should go." She amended as, once again, her best friend laid on the horn. As their eyes were locked, Hermione found herself getting on her tip toes and pressing a chaste kiss on the man's cheek. "Last night was lovely." The words caught between them, and for a second she thought that he'd kiss her.

Instead, he cradled her face, stroking her cheek with a soft smile. And just like that, he let her go.

Now here she was, acting like a worked up Slytherin second year who was eager to drop her knickers for the blonde haired heir. Shaking her head, she shoved the canvas aside and picked up her art history book instead. She'd read all the chapters already, but there wasn't any harm in being over prepared, now was there?

It was seconds later that she slammed the book shut and amended that she was too distracted to focus. She'd done so well putting her mind off him, so why couldn't she do it now?

Okay. If she was being honest, she'd admit that she wasn't quite as good at putting her mind off him as she pretended. On the contrary, she'd thought of him all week. But perhaps if she pretended otherwise, then it would eventually be true.

Hermione let out a frustrated groan as she threw the book across the room, watching it skid to a stop right in front of the painting of Rachel and she that she hadn't been able to finish. This time the groan was louder; it was as if the universe was taunting her on all of her short comings.

She couldn't have a thing for Draco Malfoy. She could not.

Sure, she knew that Harry and him had made amends over the years, and that Ginny had even grown fond of him but. Who are they kidding here? It's Draco Malfoy. She supposed that it was big of Harry to be friends with him, but that doesn't mean that the war never happened. That didn't mean that the mark on his arm was a muggle tattoo, instead of a dark hex from the darkest wizard of all time.

She'd gone to that after party as a favor to her best friend, not because she wanted to. Sincerely.

Maybe it wouldn't happen tomorrow or next week, but she swore to forget her budding friendship with the lead singer—no matter how long it took.

Pleased with her logical thinking, the young woman stood from the floor and made her way to her bed. Grabbing her fags, she found herself letting out yet another frustrated groan. Of course, it was empty. Oh well, she figured. Today was the perfect day for a walk, so why not buy a new pack and go to the park?

After quickly putting on a sundress and some lip gloss, Hermione was making her way down the stairs of her apartment with a skip in her step. Obsessing over Draco all week had taken its toll on her, so she was kind of glad to finally come to a solid conclusion about him. After all, time heals all wounds, but it certainly doesn't heal the damage done from a war.

The sun beat down on her back pleasantly, and she couldn't help the contented sigh that slipped past her lips. It felt lovely to bask in the sun's rays, as if she didn't have a care in the world, and never did. She entered the nearest convenience shop to buy her fags and stopped short.

Fate had a really funny way of provoking her. Standing by the beer section were two very familiar strangers, looking dirty and handsome in true musician glory. Her gaze switched to her left, near the register and fags. Staring back at her were the very eyes that came to life upon her canvas, and without really meaning to, she felt herself shiver slightly.

The silver eyes never left hers as he spoke in a slightly raised voice, "Oy, grab a bottle of Moscato too!" Her favorite wine, the one she'd been drinking with them a week ago.

That was all it took for her to lose the battle she'd been having with herself. Whatever this chemistry with her former enemy was, it wasn't deniable. Hell, she was practically weak at the knees from seeing him for two seconds.

They both began to move at the same time until their feet were practically touching. The chemistry between them was indescribable, as if shocks ignited throughout her entire body. Without really realizing it, she found herself picturing him naked.

Shaking her head and trying to push back the blush that overcame her face, she couldn't stop herself from smiling uncertainly at the man. "We shouldn't."

Draco shook his head, looking way too amused by the girl in front of him. "For a smart girl, you couldn't be more wrong." He cradled her face once more, staring into her eyes with an intensity made her instantly wet. His lips were merely an inch from hers when he sighed, "I want to kiss you so badly."

There were a million things that could be said to that. She could object him or urge, or maybe even do the honor instead. Somehow, the only thing she found herself saying was a soft beg, "Please." The frustration she'd felt all week was slowly deflating from her like a hole in a balloon, only to be replaced by desire and tension.

Instead, he pressed a soft kiss on her forehead and gave her the biggest grin she'd ever seen from him. "I was going to stalk you at work, but I guess you were right about fate."

She couldn't wrap her mind around his words with the haze of longing that was circling around her. Thinking of him all week seemed to have gotten her worked up, because she found herself pouting at the taller man. "So much for that kiss."

"Timing is everything, love." He replied with a wink and a smirk, as if he knew exactly what he was doing to her and her libido.

John and Travis made their way to the two, beer and wine in their hands. "Hey Herm!" Travis exclaimed in excitement, breaking the moment to attack the girl with a hug.

As disappointed as she was to be forced away from Draco, she was silently grateful for it as well. She'd never had strong feelings for anyone other than Ron, and those had developed over time. Never had she ever been the type of girl to be overcome by lust for someone who, in reality, she didn't actually know; naturally, this type of chemistry is slightly frightening.

"Hiya Trav! How's it hanging?" She questioned lightly, a genuine smile settling on her face. It was crazy how much she adored these boys that she didn't even know.

"Tucked back, I have a drag show in about thirty minutes." The other three gave the man a curious look, because as far as jokes go—that was a pretty weird one. Picking up on the silence that surrounded his statement, the boy huffed and walked to the register. "It was supposed to be funny." He pouted, more to himself than anyone else.

John gave the girl a small hug before handing Draco the wine he'd requested. "Hey man, should we wait for you, or…?"

The man in question glanced to the woman in front of him, and suddenly his previous plans didn't seem as appealing. "Nah, go on ahead. Are we still on for writing tomorrow?"

"Fuck yeah we are. How psyched are you about next week?!"

Draco shook his head, "You have no idea. Have a good night, mate. Tell Kenny sorry that I bailed."

John nodded, seemingly careless over the fact that their lead singer bailed so easily. "You got it, dude. Later, Minny. Tell the pixie that I said hi."

Just as quickly as they came, the two exited the mini-mart with a ding of the bell. Only then did Draco turn his gaze to her. "You're going out with me tonight." He spoke in his usual Malfoy superiority. Actually, it was almost weird for her to hear, because this new Draco didn't use that tone much.

"Oh, is that correct?" She asked with pursed lips, as she walked to the register in a stride, to order her fags. As the employee was fetching them for her, she turned to her side to look at the man. "What makes you think that I don't have plans?"

Draco snorted as he went to stand beside her, telling the employee his own brand of fags and setting the wine on the counter. "Who knows if you have plans, you probably do. But we both know that you'd prefer to spend the night with me." His voice was husky, and that huskiness sent tingles directly to her core.

Licking her lips, she watched as he paid for her fags, as well as his items. "I'm not one of your whores, you know." Being blunt, she found, was usually the best course of action. Unless you're at a fancy fundraiser or with the pope, that is.

He seemed surprised by her outburst, raising his eyebrows as he led the pair of them out the door. "I have no intention of shagging you until you're practically begging me for it." He paused, handing her the cigarettes that he bought her and lighting one of his own. "Which might happen sooner than you think."

It was her turn to raise her eyebrows, "Don't hold your breath." As he opened the pack and slipped a fag in her mouth, she raised her eyes to meet his. "Thanks, by the way." She shook the fags as an example of her thanks, and he shrugged in reply.

"Don't mention it."

Hermione smiled slightly as she took a hit of her fag, amazed that this man had any interest in her at all. Sure, he used to be horrible. The thought of that was so far in the distance, though, that when she was near him, it was as if it never happened. "Can I ask you something?" She asked, glancing over to him. He made a hum of approval, so she continued: "Why did John call me Minny?"

To this, his smile was bright. "The guys say that you remind them of a mouse, all timid and cute. Minny just seemed appropriate because Travis is from Florida."

The snort that came would be slightly embarrassing, if she hadn't been told a million times how cute it was by Ginny. "Did you tell them that mouse has a killer right hook?"

It was Draco's turn to lift his chin in defiance. "I have no idea what you're talking about, Min."

Amusement was evident in her voice as she replied, "I think you do_, Drake."_

They both finished smoking around the same time, and before she knew it, Draco led her to an alley. "Do you trust me?" He asked, wrapping one arm around her waist and holding the wine bottle with his other hand.

Hermione was amazed to realize that, despite all the reasons that she shouldn't, she did feel safe in Draco's embrace. The "yes" slipped from her lips as naturally as breathing. Soon, the nauseating feeling of side-long appartation followed.


	5. III

**Authors Note:** Hi guys! So, tonight is my last night of vacation, and I promised myself that I would update again—for Nelly because I always make her wait forever, and also for C-Dizzle for being awesome enough to review. (Also, you have a pretty awesome nickname. Or hell, maybe it's your birth name, who am I to judge.)

Just a few notes for this chapter, bioluminescent bays are very real and very wonderful. My mother took me on a trip to the same one I wrote about in this chapter, and it's just lovely. If you are curious to see pictures from them, just google it. I'm also unsure of the time differences from London to Puerto Rico, but go with it.

Also, I never write lemons. Like, ever. But this one just kind of happened, so pleassssse tell me how I did so I know if I should even attempt another in the future.

Without further adieu…

…

Darkness surrounded a pair of young adults as they appear on the edge of the Puerto Rican land; Hermione couldn't see a thing besides the white shirt of the man in front of her, and couldn't hear a thing besides the sounds of water splashing in the distance. Everything seemed so still, as the two wizards didn't move, even minutes after they arrived to their destination.

Hermione wasn't sure why she was reluctant to let go of the man in front of her—but it appeared to be a tie between the fears of the unknown and enjoying his embrace way more than necessary. Still, they couldn't stand around hugging forever, so it was with reluctance she took a step back, glancing around.

Nope, she still officially had no idea where they were. "Well, this is fun." Her sarcastic voice rang too loudly into the silent night, making her regret breaking the silence.

Rolling his eyes, Draco pulled out his wand and muttered a quick _'lumos' _before walking towards a boardwalk that Hermione had failed to notice in the dark. Tied to a post on the edge of this mysterious ocean was a small motor boat that—oddly—had no name to it. Perhaps it was weird that she noticed a small detail like that, but they don't call her the smartest witch of her age for nothing.

As he helped her into the wobbling vessel, her curiosity over the boat won over all the other questions that she was dying to ask. "Whose boat is this?"

After conjuring up a wine opener, Draco handed her the bottle and went to pull the string on the engine. "Mine." With a loud moan of protest, the engine kicked started and he went to steer them.

"You should name it, then." She pointed out, leaning back on the seat and taking a swig of the now open bottle.

He glanced over his shoulder to eye her, "Why would I do that?"

Draco gestured for her to hand him the wine, but was met with a playful scowl and the shake of the brunettes head. "No drinking and driving, sir. And you should name it because … well. I suppose you don't have to name it, but it's quite customary to do so."

The wizard weighed the pros and cons of arguing with the woman to hand him the alcohol, but he figured that he'd have to pick his battles, as they were bound to have a lot. "And what do you suggest I name it?"

Perhaps she should've expected that question, but Hermione found that she was taken aback. Who knows what people name their boats, she'd never owned one. "I suppose," she let the word drag on, "something about the sea. Puns seem to be popular among the boating population. Eggs-ta-sea, if you will."

"Or Aqua-holic."

Hermione thought for a moment before replying, "Shameless Hooker."

Draco wrinkled his nose, "No, I think that one is already on my aunts' old muggle boat. Vitamin Sea is pretty solid though." It was a joke, of course; he knew better than most people that his aunt would have never owned a muggle boat, even if her life depended on it.

"Aboat time." The two locked eyes before simultaneously breaking out into a light chuckle, causing her to shake her head at their antics. "What possessed you to buy a boat?" She asked as she took yet another swig of the white wine.

He shrugged, "I don't want some muggle boating me around, do you?" She chose not to answer, but to instead roll her eyes at the man.

"And where are we exactly?"

"The Caribbean coast. Have you ever read about bioluminescent bays?" Draco figured that there wasn't much that she didn't know about, so it was to both his surprise and pleasure to see his little mouse shake her head. "Well, basically, these bays contain millions of single-celled organisms that light up when they're agitated. I know it doesn't sound all that special, but…"

Hermione shifted closer to him, taking yet another swig of her precious wine. "No, it sounds bloody brilliant. How far out is it?"

"Pretty far, but I charmed the boat to go faster, so it shouldn't be too long until we get there now." He eyed the bottle of wine in her hand, noting how quickly it was reaching the middle of the bottle. "How's that wine treating you?"

He was met with the most wonderful sound of Hermione's giggles, and vowed to make that happen much more often. "I'm afraid I'm kind of a lightweight. I'm feeling it already."

"I'm not surprised, you wine-o, you almost polished off the bottle!"

"Oh hush; you're exaggerating because you're afraid that I won't save you any."

Hermione tried to not let her stomach do a weird flip when he glanced back at her, his blonde hair tousled beautifully in the wind and his eyes twinkling with delight. "On the contrary, I think you're quite endearing when piss drunk… very carefree. Have the whole bottle if you like."

She flushed red, grateful for the darkness to cover it up. "I'd like to remember this night, thank you very much." Besides, she admitted silently as she glanced down to the aforementioned wine bottle, she was only slightly feeling it before—but now her mind felt fuzzy and she realized just how much she'd had to drink. "Would you like to trade seats? I'm curious to steer this thing."

"No drinking and driving, ma'am." He mimicked her with a soft smile, but moved from his seat carefully despite the teasing. The look of excitement on her face made Draco more pleased than he'd like to admit to anyone, and he silently vowed to do his best to make sure she never got bored of the man. Who could, really, he's a Malfoy. "You're going to want to veer left at that island." He spoke, pointing to the island in mention as she took her seat in his previous one.

She passed him the wine bottle, and he waited for her to take the wheel before letting go, relaxing next to the woman. When she didn't speak, seemingly enjoying the wind caressing her curly locks, he decided to speak up. "How did you end up among the muggles?" He questioned lightly, "I'd always imagined that you would open up your own library or something equally as ambitious."

The smile on her face was a radiate one, reaching her eyes and taking his breath away all at once. "The plan was to take over Flourish and Blotts when Miriam decided to retire but," she shrugged, "once I found my parents, lord knows what a journey tracking them down had been, it didn't feel right anymore. I rekindled my passion for artwork and never looked back." The silence between them wasn't uncomfortable when she paused, letting the sounds of the passing sea fill her ears. "Besides, as I see it trying to be a successful artist is far more ambitious than owning some random bookstore."

"I'd imagine you're correct. How'd the Weasel take the news?" He couldn't stop the question from slipping past his lips. He could only imagine the devastation that must come with being left by Hermione, and if it was anyone else, he'd pity the git.

She shrugged carelessly. "Ginny only gives me brief updates, but I suppose he's fine. I'm just waiting for the day that he can move past it, like I have, so we can rekindle our friendship. Surely he can't be angry at me forever."

"I wouldn't be so sure about that."

She sent him a side glance, her curiosity taking full control of her facial expressions. "What makes you say that?"

She watched as Draco seemed to be having an inner debate before shrugging, "I just. You aren't even mine to lose, and yet… if I did." He shrugged yet again—making the gesture slightly repetitive but no less adorable, "I'm sure I'd either be angry or hurt about it for quite a while. Forever, maybe."

Draco Malfoy just admitted to her that he had emotions that included being hurt. Without really meaning to, her heart had turned to mush. She didn't have to be a genius to know that Malfoys didn't do well with vulnerability. She'd seen him put on a million facades – the cold bully, the merciless Death Eater, the philandering playboy and, finally, the sex crazed rock star. Never in a million years would she expect him to be so blunt, so genuine.

Hermione never dubbed herself as a blusher until she'd reentered this man's life, but since then the habit seemed to be catching like wildfire. "I'm nothing special." She never had patience for people who couldn't take compliments, but she wasn't special. Ever since the war, she'd been hearing how special she was time and time again – the only thing was, the only reason people said that was because of what she did, not who she was. Maybe that's why Draco's words affected her so much.

Or, her inner monologue argued, maybe it was because of who it came from.

His warm hand was on hers before she could blink, staring down at the pale hand in the moonlight. Her eyes trailed up the hand, to his arm, chest and eventually face. When she met his eyes, that familiar blush made reappearance. "Never say that about yourself, Hermione. You practically invented the word special."

"Why are you being so nice to me?" She found herself whispering, her words almost lost over the buzzing of the wind passing around them.

Never looking away, the blonde responded easily. "Because you deserve it. Because I can't help it. I don't know, Min, there's a million reasons- WATCH OUT!" His loud voice boomed, making her jump and look forward for the first time in several minutes.

They'd almost run into the trees lining the side of the island that he'd pointed out to her earlier; luckily his hand was still over hers on the wheel and his reflexes kicked in quickly enough to make the boat only brush the side of the lush bushes. Adrenaline rushing through the veins of both wizards, the only thing the two could do was laugh over the ridiculous incident.

It didn't take a mind reader to know that both were thinking about the earlier drinking and driving comment.

"Perhaps I should let you take the wheel again." Hermione muttered shyly, feeling the embarrassment of almost crashing them hit her like a ton of bricks. She was a brilliant wizard and student, but when it came to things that didn't involve words or learning, she often felt insecure. She was never a daredevil until entering Harry Potter's life, and although she liked to thing that she's changed her ways, there was no denying that she was far more comfortable in a book store than steering a boat.

Draco brushed her off with a wave of his hand, "Nonsense, we're almost there anyways."

The question that had been eating Hermione since she first saw Draco on the stage, shirtless, carefree and happy, finally found her lips. Well, it didn't come out as a question at all. Instead, she found the statement quite easily: "I didn't know you could sing."

"I wasn't one for singing in the days of Hogwarts, I suppose. You're going to want to come to a stop up here." He explained, pointing his finger to the slightly glowing area of the ocean that she had to squint to see. Realizing that he didn't actually teach her how to turn the boat off, he did the honors of turning off the engine himself.

She frowned in return, "That spot is a while away, shouldn't we wait until the boat is closer to turn it off?"

In return, Draco shook his head and stood on the now still boat. It rocked back in forth in the ocean, but the movement wasn't enough to knock him off his feet. No, it appears that only one witch had that power. He watched as her eyes trailed along his exposed stomach and chest as he reached for the edge of his shirt and pulled it over his head. "That was probably a dolphin submerging. This whole area is the bay I was telling you about."

Merlin, Hermione couldn't turn her eyes from the beautiful man in front of her. The moon light was the only source of light, but because her eyes had adjusted, it was perfectly fine with her. He was taunt and muscular, but not overly so. "Perfect."

With wide eyes, Hermione clamped her hand over her mouth in embarrassment. She'd definitely just said that aloud, and she'd be lying if she said it didn't bother her. She had no intention of telling the man in front of her what she thought about his body, but apparently it was inevitable. His wolfish grin definitely reached his eyes when he replied, "You ain't too bad yourself, Min."

Perhaps it was the alcohol in her system, but for some reason she didn't predict his fingers dropping to the button of his pants—and, the realization that he was stripping came far too late for a witch so smart. "Oh!" She exclaimed, looking away. Not before, however, getting a view of his deliciously large penis. He was soft, and she could still tell!

Red wasn't quite the word to describe the color of her cheeks. More like enflamed, Weasley red, if you will. "Don't act like you aren't impressed." Spoke Draco in perhaps the silliest voice she'd ever heard him use, a mixture of showy arrogance and a tone of joking. A few seconds passed before she heard a sharp yell of exuberance, followed by the splash of the water. Slowing, the woman turned to her companion.

"Wow," She breathed, moving closer to the edge with wide eyes. "It looks like magic." As his arms moved through the sea to hold himself afloat, a trail of bright blue surrounded his movements. It was glowing bright enough to illuminate his face, although luckily the water was deep enough that she didn't get any other views. Or maybe that was a sad fact, she hadn't decided yet.

"Look!" He exclaimed, floating on his back and moving his limbs, "It's a water angel!" His excitement was so endearing that she had to pause to stop herself from coo-ing at him like a child.

Her giggle rang through the night, mixing with the echoes of his excitement, and Hermione couldn't help but to admit that this was special. It was real magic, the kind that didn't pass through blood.

"Come on in, the waters find!" He insisted, doing a small twirl and creating an awesome pattern of color.

"We're in the middle of the ocean, Draco; we could be attacked by a shark!" They were indeed pretty deep in the Caribbean, aside from the island that they almost hit, there wasn't land in sight.

Draco couldn't help but to roll his eyes at the woman before him. "That's all very likely. Get your ARSE in this water, Granger, before I drag you in myself!"

"Who will drive your bitten body to the shore!?"

"Nobody," he practically growled, "I'd apparated myself to the nearest hospital."

"And risk splinching? Really Draco, I thought you were more thoughtful than that." She chastised lightly, standing slowly so she didn't lose her balance.

It was his turn to laugh at her, "I'm not the lightweight here, darling. Now come on, do you trust me or not?"

The words once again got caught on her ears. She wasn't sure why she trusted Draco so much, but neither could deny that it was there. A mutual respect and trust that hadn't been earned by either, yet still existed as if there was a life debt between them. Hermione would wager to say that it had something to do with their electric chemistry.

She hadn't realized that she begun to strip until she was down to her knickers and bra. With only a slight moment of hesitation, she cast those aside as well. The water was cold, he'd definitely been lying to get her in it, but she couldn't be bothered.

Intrigued, she watched as the water glowed as she ran her hands through it. Draco swam over, leaving wonderful blue in his wake, and stopping as he neared her. Using one hand to cradle her face, Draco used the over to lightly trace over her bottom lip. "You're beautiful." He told her, his voice holding an emotion that made it sound raw, unstripped. For a second, it was as if he'd never been anyone other than this beautiful, carefree man who complimented her at every turn –while still being sarcastic enough to not be boring. It was a regret that he had to go through so much before maturing into that man, but Hermione hadn't been more grateful for those challenges.

He was someone more special than he claimed that she was, and Hermione was fairly sure that he hadn't a clue in the world.

If she kissed him, or the other way round, she would never know. Lips were on lips within a blink of an eye, soft and sweet, just like the compliment he dished out. Her stomach was definitely hanging out with her heart now, as both of them were doing amazing but nerve-wracking tumbles. "I told you that timing is everything." He murmured as they pulled apart, a slight smirk on his handsome features.

He couldn't have been more right. The word kept coming up again and again, and she shouldn't be surprised at her description of their first kiss— that one tricky little word that kept popping up in every facet of her life: magic. It was the first time in a long time that she'd felt that powerful magic outside of Hogwarts, far too long since she's relished in the magic of human connection.

Draco spoke once more, "My mum brought me here once when I was little. I think it might be my favorite place in the world."

Reaching out, Hermione admired the way her hand glowed as she placed it over the blondes' heart. _Magic_. She was sincere when she spoke, "Thank you for sharing this with me." Tears prickled her eyes as she realized the significance of this trip; he was sharing a part of his soul with her. "I'd like to say that she'd be happy you brought me, but…"

"Oh, she'd be absolutely livid." He agreed, but instead of that bothering him, his smile widened. He met her again for a chaste kiss, before noticing the goose bumps ticking her body. "Let's get out of here." He suggested simply, gesturing to the small latter attached to the rear of the boat.

Hermione kept her eyes trained on the trail of blue that he left in his wake, still amazed at this natural wonder. She made a mental note to read up on these bioluminescent bays when she was back in her flat before following the man.

Merlin, did he have a nice buttock. She shook her head to clear the lust-ridden thoughts that she'd been plagued with all night, accepting the towel that he offered gratefully. Neither bothered to dress fully, as the night was a warm and humid one. Instead, each pulled on their undergarments and settled.

The sky was clear of clouds completely, Hermione realized as she rested her head on Draco's lap, gazing upwards. It was so dark out there that the view was nothing short of spectacular and with the blondes' hand running through her curls, an involuntary shiver rang through her. "Cold?" He questioned lightly as he glanced down at her, moving his free hand from her hair to tighten her towel.

She simply shook her head, "Content." His satisfied smile told her that she wasn't the only one, and not even the smell of gas as he kicked the boat back into gear could ruin her mood.

The ride back was relaxing, if nothing else. The blonde took the reins by steering, and Hermione kept her head firmly in the man's lap. "Oh, Draco, a shooting star!" she practically squealed, pointing to where the star had previously been in the sky.

"Did you make a wish?"

"What's there to wish for?" She asked back, knowing that it was all too true. She had an amazing family, was doing what she loved, had a handful of best friends who love her and she was riding in a boat on the coast of Puerto Rico, with an indescribably beautiful guy. His hand found hers and squeezed, as if he could read her thoughts.

Yup, she was fairly certain that no shooting star could add any more magic to her life.

…

The Malfoy manor wasn't nearly as magnificent looking as it once was, the yard was overgrown and there were obviously several repairs that needed to be made; given its grandiosity mixed with disrepair, Hermione was reminded of a haunted house. But for some reason, she wasn't at all surprised when Draco apparated them there, as opposed to his flat. She didn't need to see his flat to know it was cold and untouched from his days elsewhere, whereas the manor holds something more sacred.

Sure, there was a dark past to the place. She'd be tortured in front of her companions' eyes, and she read enough of the magazines before she moved to know that his mother had passed away there. But it was also where he was raised; likely the place that he took his first steps and flew on is first broom. It was where the roots of his personality took, even if he wasn't aware of it. She could practically hear the echoes of him singing in the shower, as if she'd heard it just yesterday. Or ever.

They were both surprised as they stepped through the threshold of the front door, as the view they were met with wasn't dust or abandonment. He'd sold most of their extravagant furniture when he moved, save the piano his mother used to play on and his father's favorite chair in the study.

Despite the emptiness, the floors sparkled as if they'd been recently washed, and piano in the corner of the living room was dusted to perfection. "When was the last time you were here?" She found herself asking in bewilderment, her eyes on the portrait of a young Draco—maybe eleven or so—with his parents that hung proudly near the entrance way.

Luckily for both of them, his parents were both soundly sleeping as they crept in. Although Lucius never seemed like much a yeller, Hermione was almost certain that his mother would have said something rude to her. Young Malfoy, whom she decided had to be pre-Hogwarts Draco, winked at the two of them with a mischievous glint in his eyes.

She couldn't help but to roll her eyes fondly. Some things never change.

Before Draco could reply to the question on her mind, a loud shriek startled them both. "Master Malfoy!" As they walked into the living room, they were both bewildered to see a house elf scurry up to them, "Oh, Cosmo just knew master would come back! Cosmo has kept the manor to your liking, sire!"

Hermione vaguely wondered why the elf would keep the inside spotless and ignore the yard, but kept her thoughts to herself. After all, he shouldn't have to clean after anyone. She sent a scathing look to her companion, only to find that he'd taken a knee so he was level with the elf.

"Cosmo," he spoke in a fair tone, "I'm not you're master anymore, I freed you. Remember?"

Those big, signature elf eyes went from gleeful to sorrowful in no time. "Cosmo remembers, master." His lower lip was quivering, and before they knew it, big, thick droplets started to spew from his eyes like facets. "Cosmo has nowhere to go without master Draco! Cosmo loves his master, sire, you were always so fair!"

His wail grew louder, and Draco couldn't stop the smirk that slid on his face as he glanced at Hermione. "Well, this couldn't have gone better if I paid him."

Hermione was sure to give him a stern look, "You should pay him." Her tone was hard and defiant, but her eyes held a softness that gave her away. They both knew that he'd just won some major bonus points without even trying. She got on her knees as well, addressing Cosmo this time, "Don't you have somewhere to go? Family?"

The wail that previously echoed throughout the entire manor dulled down to a slow stream of tears, a few hiccups here and there. "Cosmo is an orphan, ma'am, just like master Draco."

Draco spoke up next, "I'm afraid there isn't much room for you in my new apartment, Cos. You can stay here as long as you like, or you're free to leave. I'll start stalking the refrigerator for you so you don't go hungry."

Those wide, saucer eyes somehow found themselves wider at that statement. "Master Draco is too generous!" He spoke in amazement, throwing his arms around the other man in gratitude.

"Perhaps if you'd like company, I could come over sometime and help you with the garden." Hermione offered, as she'd always had a green thumb for gardening and missed being able to do it with her mother. Plus, she had a really really soft spot for elves and their adorable antics.

"Cosmo would love that!" He squeaked, practically shaking with excitement, "Cosmo is not worthy! Cosmo will cook to show his gratitude!" Before either could get a word in edgewise, the elf was gone with a soft pop.

As the pair stood, Hermione didn't attempt to stop herself from looking at the man next to her with wonder painted on her face. "You're unlike anyone else."

His shrug was modest as he took her hand in his and directed her to the fireplace in the center of the room. "Like you, I've just gone through more than most people should. I'm just dealing with it, like everyone else."

"But you aren't. Draco, how can you not see yourself through my eyes?" She asked, settling on the floor in front of the fireplace as he loaded it with logs, working on starting it. Her eyes trailed the empty mantel, and without realizing it, she visualized it full to the brim of pictures of their family.

_Their family._

She shivered, shaking her head to clear the startling thought. It was definitely too early to start thinking about anything like that. "Most people in your situation would've buckled, not flourished. You could have so easily lashed out after your parents were taken from you, easily could've spiraled into a hole that you couldn't get out of. Or—more likely, you could've taken to their ideals as your own to honor their memory. Instead, you did something that took far more courage. You went against everything you believed in to pursue the dream of a career that could've easily failed. You got over prejudices without much of a second thought, even when they were engrained into you from birth."

Her unexpected speech had taken place just as the fire first roared to life, heating up the otherwise cold house. Night time in Puerto Rico had been humid and warm, but in England the night time brought a slight chill that had overwhelmed the spacious manor. He sat beside her, intertwining their fingers one by one and gentled caressing the juncture where her thumb met her hand.

"You amaze me." She finished her speech with a slight breath, enjoying the feeling of his caress against her skin.

Draco was silent for a long time, unsure of how to reply. She had dug right into the center of his heart and planted herself there when he saw her again for the first time, but he was fairly sure that she'd just taken control of the whole thing come that speech. Still, all he could find the words to say were, "All that because I like my house elf."

Hermione let out an open laugh at that, using her free hand to grasp the back of his neck and pull him closer. "Stupid git." She muttered as their lips were about to touch, a smile permanently stuck upon her face.

Without the cold water between them, the kiss they shared was explosive. While the other had been sweet and gentle, this one was fiercely passionate. Lips bruised lips as her hands gripped his unruly hair, and it wasn't long before she opened her mouth to meet his warm tongue.

A battle of dominance was an understatement for what their tongues were doing. It was more of a savoring, both trying to memorize the taste of the other forever.

A small pop alerted both that their food was ready, breaking apart just in time to see Cosmo set the platter to the right of Draco. "Can Cosmo do anything else for you?" he asked, bowing slightly to the two in front of him.

"Just a little privacy would be good." Draco replied with a smile to the elf, "Thank you for the dinner, Cosmo. We both really appreciate it." The small elf blushed at the comment, much to Hermione's amusement, and he disappeared with another pop. It would appear that she wasn't the only one who had the habit of blushing in front of the man.

Draco handed her a plate that had grilled cheese sitting on it, followed by a bowl of tomato soup. She sat the sandwich beside her and cradled the tomato soup, smiling softly. "You know, it's funny. This used to be my favorite meal as a kid. My parents would cook it whenever I was mad at them to make up with me." Her head shook fondly at the memory.

The order in which Draco was eating was the opposite of her; she couldn't help but to notice that he had his sandwich in hand first. "Oh? It was the opposite for me; I'd have the elves cook me grilled cheese whenever I was ill. After my parents passed, Cosmo was making it pretty much every day for a year." Shrugging his shoulders with an amused smile, "I tried to make it for myself at my flat the other day. It just doesn't taste the same."

"Do you miss them?" She found herself asking, mentally slapping herself over her head for the obvious question. Of course he missed them, they were his parents. No matter how difficult they could be, blood was blood.

Hermione watched as he chewed a bite of his sandwich, seemingly mulling over the question. "Yes and no. There are times when I miss them so much it almost cripples me, thinking back to old banquets or mother fretting over me. More than anything, I'm just angry. Angry that father was smack dab in the center of a war, escaped from being sentenced to Azkaban by the skin of his teeth—god knows how, considering he'd previously escaped from said place—" he paused to shake his head at that, still not believing it, "Angry that it got my mother's hopes up for a normal life, only for her to realize that normal isn't possible for post-war Malfoys. Angry that after surviving so much, a simple illness was the thing that killed my father."

He took a shaky breath, hating where his thoughts were headed. "But... I'm not really angry about all that, not really. Who I'm really angry at is my mother, for giving up. I'm angry at her for leaving me in this god awful world, tainted by the gossip of witches and wizards who don't even know me. I'm angry that she didn't care that I'd be the one to find her sliced up on the floor in the pool of her own blood." His whole body was shaking now, but he refused to let the tears that clouded his eyes fall down his cheeks—for his prides sake.

Warm arms wrapped around him as Hermione gently took his sandwich and cast it aside. "I had heard about how she—…but I had no idea that you were the one to find her." She voice was raw with emotion, and she wasn't ashamed that tears were already rolling down her cheeks for the man in front of her.

"You would've loved her, Min. If she had just held on, I know her views on the war would've changed. She was so smart and determined, never taking no for an answer. She was never weak. At least I thought so, until I realized that she was the biggest coward that I'd ever met."

Draco was amazed at the weight that lifted from his shoulders by grieving aloud. He had met Astoria after the grieving process, and even if he hadn't, he wasn't sure that he would've been so open with her. Instead, his emotions had been locked within him for three long years. Previously, he was sure that he'd moved past it; his shaking hands would disagree.

"Why'd you bring me here, Draco?" Hermione couldn't grasp how he could even step foot inside this house if he'd witnessed his mother's dead body here. She wasn't at all surprised that he chose to move, as she was sure that living there each day only reminded him of that gruesome image.

He went from staring at the fire to her beautiful eyes, a smile forming on his face merely from looking at her. Gently, he used his thumbs to brush away the few stray tears that had raced down her cheeks. "I guess I just wanted a good memory here, something that stood out as a beacon of light against the darkness of this house."

"Draco," She spoke in a hoarse voice, unable to find the words to express the honor that she was feeling that he had shared something so intimate with her. They barely knew each other, but he was ready and willing to welcome her into his life as if it was the most natural thing in the world.

Hermione was never one to express things physically instead of verbally; she was a female after all, but in that exact moment, nothing else seemed more natural. It took her less than a moment of debating before she shifted and straddled the blonde man's thighs. If you'd told her earlier in the day that she was going to be seducing Draco on the floor of his childhood home, the same place where she'd been tortured years ago—the same place where his family came unraveled, she could've looked at you as if you were bonkers.

Instead, she gripped the hem of her sundress and pulled it over her head in one swift motion. Wordlessly, Draco's lips met the skin where the cup of her bra ended, slowly leaving a trail of hot, open-mouthed kisses up her chest until he reached her neck. He teased the skin there, scraping his teeth against her soft skin, only to meet it quickly with his tongue. She made an appreciative hum before pulling back so that she could look him in the face.

"What are you doing to me?" Hermione asked the rhetorical question with her eyes wide, speaking not of his necking but of the effect the man had on her. "Arms up." She ordered sternly as she gripped his white shirt and pulled it above his head.

"I could ask you the same thing." He muttered, his stealthy hands unbuckling her bra before she realized it had happened. "Merlin, it should be against the law for you to wear clothes."

"Hush." She demanded as she trailed her fingers against his abs. It was a wonderful feeling, the taut muscles twitching under her fingertips from the attention. Draco let his head fall back as he relished in her heavenly soft touch. She leaned forward, nipping his ear with her teeth playfully before taking her turn on lapping up the skin of his neck. Slowly she worked her way back up, capturing his mouth for the first time since they both started stripping.

The kiss ignited a heat in both of them, putting every ounce of each other into the joining of their tongues. The feeling of Draco becoming harder by the minute beneath her was enough to drive the brunette absolutely bonkers, and by the smirk that the man gave as they pulled apart, he was very much aware of the desire budding in his little mouse.

No longer able to resist those perfectly sized mounds at his eye level, Draco caught one of her brown nipples in his mouth. He couldn't help but to relish over the wonderful feeling of the bead toughening under his nibbles, letting one of his free hands massage the other.

"Oh God." Hermione moaned, "Please just touch me, Draco, I'm dying for you to touch me."

He drew back with the same mischievous glint in his eyes that she'd witnessed on his portrait earlier, "Where do you want me to touch you, Hermione?" She flushed red, looking just as shy and timid as her new nickname suggested she was. "Hermione, I expect you to answer me when I'm talking to you." He spoke sternly, his eyes narrowing at the woman in front of him as he casually tweaked her excited nipples, squeezing tighter to prove he was serious.

She jumped and moaned at the added pressure, feeling a whole new level of heat kick in for this dominant Draco. "M-my pussy," she breathed out, hardly believing the dirty words coming out of her mouth, "Please touch my pussy."

"As you wish," Draco amended as he flipped them over so that it was him hovering over her, this time. "Just taking a poll here, Hermione. Should I use my hands, tongue or both?"

She didn't bother hesitating this time, knowing there was absolutely no reason for her to feel embarrassed when she was with Draco. "Both. Definitely both."

He nodded, as if he was weighing the options provided, "I'll take your vote into consideration." In seconds, he was pulling her knickers down her beautiful legs and cast them aside, unable to resist leaning down and suckling on the nipple he'd previously ignored last time. With that, he kissed his way down her body.

The feather light kisses he'd placed on the swell of her breasts had been enough to drive Hermione insane, or at least she thought so, until he'd reached her thighs. That was when she was truly putty in his calloused hands, moaning at the anticipation of it all. "Draco, please."

All too slowly the experienced man slid a single digit into her sopping wet core, making a grunt of approval, "So wet. So lovely." He purred, taking in her look of aggravation at his slow pace with a mix of approval and amusement. Adding another digit without warning, the man found himself unable to hold off on tasting her any longer. He bent down and captured her enflamed clit in his mouth, enjoying the way she withered against him and moaned so loudly that he was sure Cosmo could hear her from his chambers.

He continued to finger her as she reached a climax, pausing in his advances only to lift his head and enjoy the sight of the most put-together woman he knew coming unraveled. Without missing a beat, a worn out Hermione dragged him back to her eye level, thanking the man with an opened-mouth kiss that only got her worked up once more.

No words needed to be exchanged as the couple worked to get rid of Draco's pants, with him unbuttoning them and with her pulling the pant legs until they were no longer wrapped around the gloriously long legs in front of her. Boxers soon followed, thrown god knows where, and Hermione allowed herself to take in the sight of his fully naked body once again. She could definitely get used to that.

He sat on the marble floor and pulled Hermione down to straddle him once more. She found herself astonished at the intimate position, as their noses were almost touching and they were at the same eye level. Again, only silence surrounded them as he guided his throbbing cock to her entrance.

She let out a breathy gasp, eyes shut in pleasure as he slowly filled her. God, he was so big. "Hermione, open your eyes." That same forceful tone erupted once more, and with a slight tug of the hair, she found herself meeting his eyes once again. "Keep them open."

Ever the snarky little thing, Hermione had been a heartbeat away from questioning him on what awaits her should she break the rules when she realized with another gasp why it'd been a rule in the first place. He was fully sheathed in her heat now, and the eye contact along with the way her breasts were pressed against his tough chest was enough that she nearly came on the spot from the intimacy of it all.

Without missing a beat, the two found an enchanting rhythm before coming apart before the others eyes, a truly erotic experience that almost convinced Hermione her pulse would never return to its original speed.

They sat still, both unwilling to move as he went soft within her. She found that she was content like this, figured he could just move his member in and become a permanent resident in there. Her eye caught on a tattoo on his right shoulder blade, a silver and green snake that extended to the top of his bicep. For some reason, she couldn't help but to adore the fact that his house blood ran so deep. He was a Slytherin for life, whereas she hadn't referred to herself as a Gryffindor in god knows how long.

He was so special it almost made her heart burst. Finally gaining the strength to stand, Hermione moved from atop Draco and stood, searching for her clothes. After slipping on her bra and dress, and paused to realize where her lacy knickers had landed.

Directly in Draco's soup. Muffling her laugher with her hand, Hermione pointed in the direction of the sight before her. So much for her knickers, she supposed. Draco followed her gaze with his own grin, "It tasted like something was missing earlier. I'm sure that's just the thing." And, to her horror, she watched as he plucked out the lacy piece and cast it aside, only to pick up his spoon and go to town.

"You freak!" She found herself scolding, shoving his broad shoulder with her foot. She realized her mistake seconds later, when he grabbed her ankle and used her body as a counterweight as he stood.

"What'd you say to me?" He questioned, letting go of her ankle but giving her his best Malfoy glare.

That challenging look sparked in her eyes as she replied in a similar tone that he's used on her, "I called you a freak, you tosser."

"I wouldn't do that if I were you." He warned, his eyes narrowing anymore.

"And if I don't follow the orders of Master Malfoy?" She questioned defiantly, her chin raised and a spark in her eyes.

He didn't pause as he snuck an arm around under her dress and to her backside, his hand hovering over her rear so close that she could feel his body warmth. "I suppose a spanking would be in order."

"There's only one problem with that." She breathed softly, biting down on her lip.

"Enlighten me."

In a flash, the woman was running out of the living room and through the corridors of the manor. Still, he could hear her reply clear as day as it echoed through the halls. "You'll have to catch me first!"

As he took off after her, stark naked, the man couldn't help but to appreciate the sound of her laughter echoing off every surface of the house. With every giggle she emitted, the pain in his chest eased little by little.

Drake is positive that he could get used to this.


End file.
